


It Wasn't You

by DawnRed



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnRed/pseuds/DawnRed
Summary: Peeta and Katniss are not friends. She has never spoken to him, not even to thank him for the loaves of bread that saved her family's life. But that doesn't matter because Peeta's brother has just been reaped, because the cruelest thing that can happen is happening to the kindest boy in District 12. It's not fair. Everlark. Love without reaping AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this story on Fanfcition.net under the same name and author.  
> Enjoy!

Prim likes to joke that Katniss has tunnel vision.

 

A _“One track mind is more like it”_ she heard Gale say once. Katniss didn’t find particularly funny and had proceeded to ignored Gale and his childish taunts for the rest of the day. Gale was extremely peeved at her reaction _“Can’t you take a joke, Catnip?”_ but for the sake of their friendship he never brought it up again.

 

Prim, on the other hand, still likes to tease her about it. Some days she’ll wave a hand off to the side of her face, just to see if she’ll turn—which is ridiculous, she’s a hunter; there’s no way she’d miss something so obvious in her peripheral vision.

 

Other days she’s more inconspicuous. Prim will hide something in the house, something small or unimportant that Katniss doesn’t use just to see if she’d noticed that it was gone. Usually, it would drive Katniss insane, all this pestering, but she can’t deny Prim anything. She loves Prim more than anything. It’s this kind of love, unconditional and warm that makes her sometimes forget that Prim is, in fact, her little sister. 

 

And little sisters sure can be annoying. 

 

Katniss didn't notice at first. It was too early in the morning, and even though the sun rises earlier in the summer, it is still far too dark for Katniss to have seen anything amiss. Katniss rises out of bed prepared to go hunting with Gale. She readies herself, making sure she’s quite so as not to wake her mother or Prim.

 

As she heads for the door, Katniss reaches for the usual spot where she hangs her father's hunting jacket. Instead of the familiar, worn leather, she's met with nothing but air. She turns and is shocked to find her father's beloved hunting jacket not resting on the hook as always. It doesn't take Katniss long to figure out what happened to it.

 

Katniss is extra careful with her father's jacket as it is the only thing that remains of him. Everything else was either sold or blown to bits down in the mines. She knows her mother wouldn't dare touch it. Katniss made it very clear she was not to touch it; her mother lost that privilege when she let her daughters starve. Since it wasn’t her mother, that points to the only other person in their small home.

 

Prim. 

 

Prim must have hidden it as part of her annoying little game. Katniss lets out a groan. She does not have time for this especially today. Katniss marches to the bedroom they share with their mother, not caring if she wakes them both up. Katniss may spoil Prim with love and affection—which to her defense Prim needed from her as their mother was sorely lacking—but enough is enough. She swings the door open disappointed that it didn’t make more noise.

 

It's still fairly dark out, but enough light has filtered in allowing Katniss to make out the figures in the bedroom. She spots Prim curled up on her side next to their mother, and the anger seeps out of her. 

 

She's wearing their father's hunting jacket. Prim never wears it. It is much too big for her and meant to be worn by the head of the household, which is now Katniss. 

Of course, she's wearing it. Today's the reaping.

Feeling bad for almost waking them up Katniss heads out of the room quietly and slowly closes the door behind her. Prim should get as much sleep as she can. She knows how terrifying your first reaping can be.

 

Katniss decides it’s warm enough out and leaves without a coat, purposely stepping on the tail of Prim’s ugly orange cat as she heads out.

"You know what you did," Katniss says when the cat hisses at her.

 

* * *

 

Once in the woods Katniss reaches under a hollow log and retrieves her bow and arrows. She takes a deep breath admiring the peacefulness of the woods around her. A rare smile works its way on her lips. Gale always did say she was the happiest out here.

 

She hears a snap and feels something brush past her. She turns and in a split second has her bowstring pulled back taught and an arrow pointing at her unlucky prey.

 

"Hey Catnip," says Gales holding some berries in his hand. He smirks and throws one in his mouth. He knows that’s not her name, but after miss understanding her the first time she introduced herself the nickname stuck. Gale thinks it's a fitting nickname. He says lame animals are always seeking her company. She’s like actually catnip he says referring to the goat and cat at her house and the lynx that followed her around once. He’s wrong. Besides the lynx that followed her around for scraps, the other two are only attracted to Prim. Katniss is not generous or compassionate like Prim. Any animal, lame or otherwise, should be smarter than to seek help from her.

 

“Dammit, Gale." She lowers her bow “I could have shot you.”

 

Gale shrugs, “No you wouldn’t.” He holds up his other hand “Look what I shot” he says holding up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. Despite still being mad at Gale for startling her Katniss lets out a small laugh. It’s real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves her mother makes at home from their meager grain rations. She pulls the arrow out and inhales the fragrance that seeps out from the puncher in the crust. The smell is enough to make her mouth water.

 

"Mm, still warm." She says. "What did it cost you?" Fine bread like this is for special occasions, and it must have cost Gale quite a lot.

 

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning." Says Gales. "Even wished me luck." He snorts.

 

"Well, it reaping day. We all feel a little closer today, don’t we?” Katniss says thinking back to the way Prim and her mother were pressed up together this morning. Gale just shrugs. Katniss tries not to roll her eyes at Gales’ blatant hatred of the merchant class. While most of the merchants—the wealthier and better-fed class of District 12— can be condescending and rude, especially about people from the Seam—the poorer and underfed class of District 12—there are exceptions. Mr. Mellark, the only baker in District 12, is one of those. He's always been kind and respectful when she’s traded with him. Most other merchants turn their nose up at her and Gale when they trade—even though they’re receiving fresh game—but Mr. Mellark is one of the few that doesn’t.

 

“Prim left us cheese…but her mangy cat ate it.”

 

Gale laughs, “Isn’t it about time you drown that thing? It’s fat enough now to provide a decent meal at least.”

 

"Don't even joke. I tried that once, and Prim cried for hours. As long as the thing never scratches her, then I'm fine with having it around.”

 

"Well, I got some berries. There’s probably more up the hill. Then we’ll be able to have a real feast.”

 

Katniss nods her head and starts to climb the hill alongside Gale. Their footsteps are quite; a crucial skill picked up after so many years of hunting together. They continue to climb, picking berries along the way before reaching their favorite spot—a rock ledge overlooking a valley. 

 

They sit down together, and Gale breaks the bread, handing her half. “Happy Hunger Games!” he says in an upbeat Capital accent, mimicking Effie Trinket— District 12’s escort and the woman responsible for choosing the tributes. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” Katniss plays along, tossing him a berry. He catches it in his mouth, and they settle into a comfortable silence. 

 

Katniss watches Gales stuff some berries into a slice of bread and take a bite as she does the same. Their movements are so in sync it amazes her sometimes. She supposes she could attribute their synchroneity to their many years as hunting partners, but it's more than that. They're just really similar in many ways—stealthy, stubborn, Seam-born, and head of their households. They both lost their father's in the same mine explosion, and as the oldest, they both had to take on the role of primary provider.

 

She met Gale when she first came out here to hunt by herself. It was tense at first, both of them saw the other as competition, and not as allies, but once they grew comfortable around each other, a true partnership was born.

 

It's times like these, in the stillness and freedom that the woods offers them, that Katniss is grateful they both resorted to hunting to provide for their families. Gale’s friendship means a great deal to her. They’re close enough to be family—they certainly look like siblings. Sharing the same black hair, olive skin, and gray eyes. All trademarks of the Seam.

 

Katniss sighs. Today would have been a perfect day if it weren’t for the reaping.

 

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly, breaking the silence.

 

“What?”

 

"Leave the district. Runoff. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." He says.

 

Katniss stares at him, stunned by the sudden turn in the conversation. What made him think of such a ludicrous idea?

 

“If we didn’t have so many kids.” He adds quickly.

 

Between his two little brothers, baby sister, and Prim that makes four kids they have to feed. Not to mention their mothers who rely on them just as much.

 

“I never want to have kids.” Katniss finally says.

 

“I might. If I didn’t live here.” Gale says.

 

“But you do.” Katniss counters, irritated.

 

“Forget it.” He snaps back.

 

Katniss snorts at his foul mood. It's his fault for bringing it up. Why would they leave? They have family here, responsibilities! How could she ever leave Prim, who is the only person in the world she is certain she loves? And Gale…he would never leave his family.

 

So then why?

 

Katniss figures it has to do with this being his last reaping. It's exciting to be so close to over with the nightmare that is possibly being reaped into the Hunger Games, but while it might be his last reaping, he's also in the greatest danger of being reaped. You become eligible for the reaping when you're 12, and your name gets entered into the reaping once. Ever year after that your name gets enter once more so by the time you're 18 and almost done with the reaping your name is entered a grand total of seven times. 

 

It’s more convenient for the capital, she thinks. It's far more entertaining to watch 18 years olds fight to the death than it is 12 years old.  

 

In District 12, however, you have the option of signing up for tesserae to get grain and oil in exchange for more slips entered into the reaping bowl. You can sign up for yourself, and every member of your family, which is something Gale and Katniss do every year. The threat of starvation today far outweighs the possibility of being reaped for the Hunger Games tomorrow.

 

“How many times is your name in today?” Katniss asks.

 

“42,” Gale answers. “I guess the odds aren’t exactly in my favor.”

* * *

 

Katniss and Gale make the most of the morning and get a pretty good haul. A few squirrels and even some fish they caught at the lake. Enough meat to trade and still have something nice for dinner. After the reaping, most people celebrate the relief of not being reaped. It's not a great practice, celebrating when two kids have been sent off to slaughter, but people in District 12 have very few reasons to celebrate as is.

 

Before heading home, they swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned coal warehouse. Greasy Sae, the bony old woman who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off their hands in exchange for a couple of chunks of paraffin.

 

They sell a couple of the fish for some coins to some of the Peacekeepers roaming around the Hob. The Hob and poaching in the woods are illegal, but most Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to these illegal activities because they’re just as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is.

 

Once done at the Hob, Katniss and Gale head to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries they picked. The mayor has a particular fondness for them and is one of the few people in District 12 to be able to afford their price.

 

The mayor’s daughter, Madge, opens the door. She’s in Katniss’s year at school. Being the mayor’s daughter, you’d expect her to be a snob, but she’s all right. She just keeps to herself. Like Katniss does. Since neither of themreally has a group of friends, they seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities. They rarely talk, which suits them just fine. Still, Madge is the closest thing to a friend that Katniss has—besides Gale.

 

Today, Madge’s drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes.

 

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

 

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment or if he’s just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she’d never wear it normally. She presses her lips together and then smiles. “Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don’t I?”

 

Now it’s Gale’s turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? Katniss guesses the second.

 

"You won't be going to the Capitol," Gale says coolly. His eyes land on a small circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. “What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old.”

 

"That's not her fault," Katniss says, angry with Gale for his insensitive words.

 

“No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is.” Says Gale.

 

Madge’s face has become closed off. She puts the money for the strawberries in Katniss’s hand. Katniss nods and makes to leave “Wait.” Madge says. She reaches down and removes her gold pin. She places it in Katniss hand. “Good luck, Katniss.”

 

Katniss makes to hand it back. The gold pin is far too expensive, and she's not in the habit of accepting handouts. But before Katniss can hand it back, Mage closes the door.

 

Gale snorts. “You gonna tell me that’s not her fault?”

 

Katniss glares at him and stomps away. “Come on. I have one last place to go before heading home.”

 

They walk down from the Mayor's house into town. Most of the businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but Katniss knows of one business that stays open right up till the reaping. The bakery. As the only bakery in the District, the bakery can’t afford to stay closed for too long. People need bread after all.

 

Like at the Mayor’s house, they head to the back door and knock. The Baker is a regular customer of theirs, always buying their squirrels. Gale already traded a squirrel for a small loaf this morning, but Katniss is hoping to trade three of her squirrels for two hearty bread loaves. 

 

She wants to make tonight’s feast special, not only for Prim surviving her first reaping but also for Gale surviving his last. Besides, the baker might want more fresh meat to celebrate tonight too. He has three sons, one she knows of is too old for the reaping but the other two aren't. The baker is a kind man; surely he’d want to celebrate having his sons around for another year.

 

The door opens and, like always, Katniss holds her breath, fearing the baker’s wife, a shrill and nasty woman who despises everything—especially people from the Seam—will open the door. If the baker's wife opens the door, there will be no bread tonight. 

 

Instead of the baker, or his wife, one of their sons opens the door. He’s tall and blond, like most people from town.

 

“Gale.” He smirks, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Gale frowns, “Rye.”

 

The boys have a silent stare-off. Gale is frowning and brooding, but Rye continues to stare at him with an obnoxious smirk. Katniss clears her throat to get their attention. “Where’s your father?”

 

Rye turns to look at her as if just noticing that she is there. His eyes trail her form with interest, and it makes her feel uncomfortable. His brown eyes finally land on her face. She’s surprised for a moment, to see brown. She assumed the Mellark brothers all shared their father’s blue eyes. Perhaps he’s not the baker’s son?

 

“Dad!” Rye yells, disconfirming her thoughts.

 

An older man appears at the back door.

 

“Gale. Katniss.” The baker says in greeting. “Rye, why don’t you go finish getting ready?”

 

“Ok, Later.” He says with a wink thrown in Gale’s direction. Gale’s frown deepens.

 

“What have you got for me?” the baker asks.

 

“Three squirrels,” Katniss answers, “Fat ones.”

 

The baker nods, “Two loaves okay?”

 

Katniss nods.

 

The Baker leaves to retrieve the loaves. He comes back and hands Katniss the bag, “Good luck you two.” He says with a kind smile before closing the door.

 

End of transaction. Katniss smiles a little at the smell and feel of the fresh bread in her arms. She enjoys trading with the baker, he’s a man of few words and she appreciates that.

 

Katniss starts to walk away from town toward the Seam. Gale follows alongside her, silently fuming.

 

Katniss rolls her eyes, “What wrong with you.”

 

“Nothing. It’s just… that punk, Ryean Mellark.”

 

"What was that about? You know him?" Katniss asks.

 

Gale kicks a rock in his path, “ Not really. He’s in my year at school, but I run into him sometimes. He’s got his own group of friends—mostly girls, the giant flirt— but he likes to hang out with some other kids too, a group of seam kids—mostly girls too.” He says disgustingly. It’s no mystery what he must be thinking—Slag Heap. The Slag Heap is another disputable location in District 12, where young boys and girls go to…err…you know—do married things. The only time a merchant boy pays any attention to a Seam girl is when he intends to take her to the Slag Heap. Most girls go along with it, hoping the boys will fall in love with them, or that they’ll get something for their trouble. Everyone knows a merchant boy would never marry a Seam girl.

 

“Just hate the guy is all.” Gale finishes.

 

Katniss rolls her eyes again, “You hate all townies.” Townies is what people from the seam call people that live in town, the merchants.

 

"Yeah, well…they look down on us, why shouldn’t we do the same?”

 

Katniss says nothing, not in the mood to argue or hear another one of Gale’s “life isn’t fair,” rants. Life isn't fair. So what? How's complaining about it going to help them or put food on the table?

 

They reach the junction that separates their houses.

 

"I'll see you after the reaping," Katniss says.

 

Gales nods, "Go make sure you look pretty for the cameras." he says sarcastically.

 

Katniss makes it home to find her mother and sister ready to go. Her mother, light-skinned and blond, wears a pretty dress from when she lived in town. She was a merchant before she fell in love and ran way to live with a coal miner. Her parents are the only case Katniss has ever heard of a person from Town and a person from the Seam getting married. It didn’t exactly end up well for them.

 

But then again, love never does. Not in this place, not in this world.

 

Prim, who is an exact replica of their mother but younger, wears Katniss’s first reaping outfit—a skirt and a pretty ruffled blouse. Katniss also notices that she’s still wearing their father’s hunting jacket.

 

“I laid something out for you too.” Her mother says from her seat at the kitchen table.

 

Katniss nods without meeting her eyes. She heads over to the tub of warm water. She scrubs off the dirt and sweat from the woods and washes her hair. When she gets out, she sees what her mother has laid out for her. A soft blue dress with matching shoes. It’s pretty, no doubt hers from when she lived in town.

 

“Let’s put your hair up, too.” Her mother says. There are not many things Katniss lets her mother do for her, but it's a special day, so she nods her head and lets her mother braid her hair. It's an intricate braid that lands softly on her shoulder. When she's finished, Katniss sees herself in their cracked mirror. She looks clean and pretty, but still tiny and underfed. Angry too. She spots Prim looking at her through the mirror.

 

"You look beautiful," Prim says in a hushed voice. "I wish I looked like you."

 

Katniss walks over to the couch and sits down next to Prim. “I wish I looked like you, little duck.” She hugs Prim. She knows these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She's about as safe as you can get since she's only entered once. Katniss did everything in her power to prevent her from taking out any tesserae.

 

“I had nightmares.” Prim whispers.

 

Katniss runs her hand down Prim’s head, soothingly. “I know Prim, but they’re not going to pick you. Your name’s only in once. The odds are in your favor.”

 

Prim starts to whimper, “But…” Katniss feels a fat water drop hit her chest. She rocks Prim back and forth trying to soothe her. "Hey, it's going to be ok. We'll go and it will be over before you know it," That's a lie, the reaping can feel like hours—even though it only takes half an hour at most. "Then we'll come here and we'll celebrate. I got us fish, and some fresh bread too.”

 

Prim continues to cry, “But…but…what…about…” As scared as she is, it’s not herself Prim is worried about. Prim is worried about her. She’s worried that the unthinkable might happen to her older sister.

 

“Hey,” Katniss says pulling away from Prim, “I got you something.”

 

Prim looks at her with watery, curious eyes.

 

Katniss pulls out something small and shiny and puts it in Prim’s hand.

 

“It’s a pin,” Katniss says

 

Prim looks at it, in awe of how beautiful it is. “What is it?” She asks referring to the winged creature in the middle. The creature is a small bird in flight.

 

“It’s a Mockingjay.” Katniss says. "If you wear this, nothing can hurt you. It'll protect you."

 

Katniss can protect Prim against anything but the Capitol and the Games, so even though it’s silly, she hopes Prim can hang onto this pin and feel comforted by it. Even as she stands alone at the reaping later today.

 

Prim wipes away her tears. “Ok. Thank you.”

 

Katniss kisses her forehead. "You're welcome little duck. Now, how about, we get you out of that jacket? You must be burning up."

 

Prim shrugs off the jacket, “Sorry.”

 

“It’s ok.” She leans over, “I feel brave when I wear it too.”

 

Prim lets out a small laugh.

 

“Girls,” their mother says, cutting off their laugh. “It’s time to go.”

* * *

 

The town square is packed with people. Attendance is mandatory for everyone unless you are on death's door. People continue to silently file and sign in. Twelve through Eighteen year olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, and the young ones, like Prim, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. It's not a feeling that Katniss welcomes. She's never been a fan of tight, in closed spaces. 

 

Katniss and Prim sign in, already having left their mother in the family-restricted area. Before separating, Katniss notices Prim’s blouse has pulled out of her skirt.

 

"Tuck your tail in little duck," Katniss says, smoothing the blouse back in place.

 

Prim usually quacks when Katniss calls her that, but she’s much too frightened to do anything else but shake.

 

“It’s going to be ok.” Katniss squeezes her hand, "Now go on." She leaves Prim in the area marked off for twelve-year-olds and makes her way to the section for sixteen-year-olds. As usual, the seam and merchant kids have segregated themselves into two groups. Even with the threat of the Games hanging over their head, there is no love loss between the seam and townies. 

 

Katniss stares up at the stage where the reaping will be announced. It holds three chairs, a podium, and large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. Katniss stares at the girls’ bowl, twenty of them have her name written on them—Katniss Everdeen.

 

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It’s the same story every year. He tells the history of Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave the districts new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, the Hunger Games were created.

 

In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl, and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

 

Taking the kids from the districts, forcing them to kill one another while the rest of Panem watches—this is the Capitol’s way of reminding the districts of how totally at the mercy of the Capitol they are. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion.

 

Their message is clear. _“Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there’s nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did District Thirteen.”_

 

The Capitol requires everyone in Panem to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gift of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of the districts battle starvation.

 

“It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.” Intones the mayor.

 

Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, District 12 has had exactly two. Only one is still alive—Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, stagger onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He’s drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but Katniss refuses to join in.

 

It’s the responsibility of the victors to mentor the tributes, help them win the Hunger Games. Mentors can help line up sponsors in the Capitol, which are rich people whom actually see the Hunger Games as a sport and not a mass massacre. They can use their money to send tributes in the arena supplies they need, like medicine, weapons, food.

 

As District 12’s only living victor, Haymitch is the only person that can help tributes win, which is why—Katniss thinks— District 12 hasn’t had a victor in the last twenty-four years. Haymitch is nothing but a lazy drunk; he probably doesn’t even bother remembering the tributes names. Tributes from District 12 are often the poorest and most underfed children in the District, which means they’re usually from the seam too. There’s little hope of them winning, but for Haymitch to do nothing—it makes him just as bad as all the people from the Capitol.

 

It doesn’t help that he’s a laughing stock. Haymitch, confused by the applause, tries to give Effie Trinket a sloppy hug. She avoids it, but Haymitch looses his balance and ends up barreling over the stage. The Capitol cameras are recording live and capture every minute of District 12’s disgrace.

 

No one laughs though. There’s nothing amusing about a broken, useless man.

 

Trying to pull the attention back to the reaping, Effie Trinket trots to the podium, bright and bubbly as ever, and gives her signature, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!” Her pink hair and ridiculous makeup are off-place in such a drab place, especially on such a gloomy day. “It is such an honor to be here, in such a pristine and beautiful district.” She fakes; being an escort to an outlier district like 12 has to be the worst type of job—well in the Capitol anyway. There are much worse occupations.

 

Like mining.

 

“Ladies first!” Effie says as she always does, crossing over to the large glass ball with the girl’s names on it. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball. Katniss holds her breath; her heart beat erratic. The only thing on her mind is _Not Prim. Not me. Not Prim. Not me. Not Prim._

 

Effie pulls out a slip of paper and crosses back to the podium. She soothes out the slip and reads the name out in a clear voice.

 

“Maple Graystone." A seam girl emerges from the area marked off for fifteen-year-olds. She's tall for a seam girl, but severely underfed. If her cheeks weren't so sunken in, she'd be a real beauty. Her shoulders shake so much from her tears she actually trips twice before getting to the stage. Poor girl. Looks like a stray wind could topple her.

 

“Boy’s next!”

 

Katniss relaxes, so relieved that it wasn’t herself or Prim. She can feel her blood rush in her ears. Amongst her relief she starts to feel guilty, guilty for being relieved while another girl heads off to her death, guilty for not think of anyone else, like Madge or Gale whom still has a high chance of being picked. This must be that tunnel vision Prim likes to tease her about.

 

She almost misses the boy’s name as the guilt builds up for being so relieved without consideration for Gale or his brother. Effie reads the name, but Katniss only catches the last name of the boy reaped for the 74th hunger games

“—Mellark”

 

Katniss pales. She turns her head in time to see a tall, and blond boy head to the stage. She knows that boy.

 

It’s Ryean Mellark.

 

_Oh no_. She thinks

 

_Not him._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss pales. She turns her head in time to see a tall, and blond boy head to the stage. She knows that boy. 
> 
> It’s Ryean Mellark. 
> 
> Oh no. She thinks 
> 
> Not him.

As soon as she realizes who it is, her eyes shift to look for another blond head. Instead of her sister's blond hair, she searches the boy section for a head resembling the unlucky boy reaped. Even in a sea of fair skin and light hair, Katniss is able to make out the unmistakable head of Peeta Mellark, the boy she owes her life to.

 

The boy with the bread.

 

It was during the worst time in Katniss's life. Her father had recently died in a mine accident during the bitterest of winters. The numbness of his loss had passed leaving Katniss as cold and raw as the barren, frozen land. The district had given her family a small amount of money as compensation for his death, enough to cover one month of grieving at which time her mother would be expected to get a job.

 

Only she didn't.

 

Her mother didn't do anything but sit, propped up in a chair or, more often, huddled under the blankets on her bed; eyes fixed on some point in the distance.No amount of pleading from Prim or Katniss seemed to affect her. Nothing sitting her, not the cries of her daughter or the cries of their empty bellies. At eleven, Katniss had not only lost a father but a mother as well.

 

Katniss did her best to care for herself and Prim, so as not to let anyone find out about her mother's condition. If word got out that their mother was no longer able to care for them, then Katniss and Prim would be placed in the community home. Besides the games, Katniss can't think of a worse fate.

 

Once the money ran out; however, there was little Katniss could do. They were slowly starving to death. Katniss only had a few weeks left before she turned 12 and would be eligible to sign up for tesserae to get grain and oil in exchange for more slips entered into the reaping bowl. Not that it mattered as feeding Prim was more important than being potentially reaped into the Games. They just needed to hold on until her 12th birthday, but as the days passed that seemed less and less likely.

 

Katniss's family was on death's door.

 

It was raining the day Katniss first met Peeta. The rain was relentless, falling in icy sheets. Katniss had gone into town to trade some threadbare old baby clothes of Prim's in the public market, but there had been no takers. Katniss could have gone to the Hob, but she had been much too young and still too fearful to venture into that rough, and gritty place alone.

 

The rain had soaked through her father's hunting jacket, leaving her chilled to the bone. By the time the market had closed, Katniss was shaking so hard that she dropped the bundle of baby clothes in a mud puddle. Katniss didn't pick them up for fear of not having the strength to get back up. The clothes weren't worth the effort anyway.

 

Katniss was tired, so tired, and so cold. But she couldn't go home. At home was her mother with vacant eyes, and her little sister with hollow cheeks and an empty belly. Katniss couldn't return to them with empty hands and no hope.

 

Katniss ended up stumbling along a muddy lane behind the shops that serve the wealthiest townspeople. Katniss searched through their trash bins, hoping to find something—anything, to feed her family. Perhaps a bone at the butchers or rotted vegetables at the grocers.

 

When Katniss passed the bakery, the smell of fresh bread stopped her in her tracks. She lifted the lid to the baker's trash bin and found… _nothing_. Hungry and depressed she lowered the lid when a voice caught her off guard. Katniss looked up to find the shrill voice of the baker's wife yelling at her to move on.

 

"Move along seam brat! Do you want me to call the Peacekeepers?"

 

Her words, along with face, were ugly, and Katniss did not have the strength to fight back. As she backed away from the trash bins she noticed him, a boy with blond hair peering out from behind his mother's back. She recognized him, sort of, from school.

 

His mother went back into the bakery, grumbling, but he must have been watching her as she made her way behind the pen that held their pigs and leaned against the far side of an old apple tree. The realization that she would have nothing to take home finally sunk in. Her knees bucked, and she slid down the tree truck. Her family was going to starve to death, and there was nothing she could do.

 

Suddenly, there was a clatter in the bakery, and Katniss heard the baker's wife screaming again and then the sound of a blow. She saw feet come toward her and she thought _It's her. She's coming to drive me away with a stick._ But it wasn't her. It was the boy. In his arms, he carried two large loaves of bread that must have fallen into the fire because the crusts were scorched black.

 

His mother was yelling, "Feed it to the pigs, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

 

He began to tear off chunks from the burned parts and toss them into the pigpen as his mother went back inside the bakery. The boy never glanced at Katniss, but she watched him, because of the bread in his arms, and because of the red welt that stood out on his cheekbone. Katniss couldn't help but wince. _What had she hit him with?_

 

The boy took one look back at the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then, his attention back on the pig, he threw the loaves of bread in her direction. Katniss stared at the bread in disbelief. Except for the burned areas, the loaves were perfect, hearty bread, filled with raisins and nuts. She grabbed the loaves and shoved them under her shirt, protecting them from the rain with her father's hunting jacket. She ran home, clutching the loaves of bread tighter, clinging on to life.

 

That night, her family ate their first real meal in weeks.

 

It didn't occur to Katniss until the next morning that the boy might have burned the bread on purpose to give to her knowing he'd receive a beating. However, she dismissed the idea. _He didn't even know her!_ Still, that bread was an enormous kindness, and such kindness was rare.

 

Katniss saw the boy at school. His cheek had swelled up, and his eye had blackened. He didn't acknowledge her in any way, but that afternoon, as she and Prim headed home, she found him staring at her from across the schoolyard. Their eyes met only for a second; then he turned his head away. She too looked away, and dropped her gaze, embarrassed, and that's when she saw it. The first dandelion of the year. A bell went off in her head. She thought about all the hours she spent in the woods with her father, the fresh game, the edible plants—his bow. 

 

She knew how they were going to survive.

 

To this day, Katniss can never shake the connection between the boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave her hope, and the dandelion that reminded her she was not doomed.

 

Peeta and Katniss are not friends. She has never spoken to him, not even to thank him for the loaves of bread that saved her family's life. But that doesn't matter because Peeta's brother has just been reaped, because the cruelest thing that can happen, is happening to the kindest boy in District 12.

 

_It's not fair._

 

Katniss stares at Peeta, in sympathy—or was it pity— Katniss does not know. Maybe she's trying to gauge his reaction. Katniss can't see Peeta's face, but she can almost feel his distress. Katniss does not consider herself a warm or comforting person, but at this moment she desires nothing more but to ease the pain that Peeta must be feeling.

 

Katniss would be an inconsolable wreck if her sister were the one reaped. She can't even begin to imagine it, her sister, her sweet Prim being reaped, being forced to be in the games. Her heart clenches in grief.

 

Peeta remains unmoving, head facing his brother. A beat later and Katniss figures the shock must have worn off as she spots movement. Peeta's shoulders and head slump forward, looking utterly defeated, not unlike his brother who has just reached the stage. Then, surprising still, she sees Peeta slowly, aggressively almost, making his way toward the edge of the section marked for sixteen-year-olds.

 

_No,_ she thinks almost desperately once she realizes what Peeta intends to do. Volunteering is unheard of in District 12, and although Katniss understands, for she would have done the same for her sister, she mentally pleads for Peeta not to do the same.

 

Peeta is too good, too gentle.

 

_The games would eat him alive._

 

Unnoticed to Katniss, she starts to move towards him, hoping to stop his noble but stupid actions. Before she can take another step, a boy, lanky but taller than Peeta grabs hold of his shoulders. Peeta is strong though and manages to shake out of the other boy's grasp. There appears to be a silent fight brewing between the two. If the attention weren't solely focused on the children reaped, the peacekeepers would have put an end to it immediately.

 

Effie Trinket asks for volunteers.

 

District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades, possibly ever. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy's name has been read, or girl, if a girl's name has been read, can step forward to take his place. In some districts, in which winning the Hunger Games is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives and volunteering is far more common. But in District 12, where the word _tribute_ is pretty much synonymous with the word _corpse_ , volunteers are unheard of.

 

_Today might be the expectation._

 

Katniss eyes grow large. She turns to look at Peeta—hoping he won't be so foolish as to volunteer. However, before he has a chance, the other boy manages to put his hand over Peeta's mouth, and the other arm around his shoulders. It's a hold she's seen some of the boys on the wrestling team do before, but given the boy's size, Katniss assumes he's not a part of the wrestling team. His grip looks sloppy and given the fact that Peeta came in 2nd in last year's wrestling tournament, Katniss has no doubt that Peeta can easily get out of the hold.

 

Peeta jabs his elbow into the other boy's side causing the boy to double over and, as Katniss predicted, allows Peeta to remove the boy's hold on him. Peeta moves quickly to the edge of the roped off section. Katniss watches in horror as Peeta begins to raise his hand and open his mouth to speak the words that will mark his death sentence.

 

"NO!"

 

It takes Katniss a second to realize that the yell did not come from a grief-stricken parent, or from Peeta.

 

It came from her.

 

Peeta stops, his body frozen and eyes locked on her. Throughout the years, Katniss has caught Peeta's eyes trained on her numerous times, only to look away quickly. She's never locked eyes with Peeta for more than a second. Until now.

His eyes are bluer than she imagined.

 

"Oh, my! Well, that was rude, but if you feel that strongly about it…how about we give a round of applause for our latest tributes!" Effie forces an awkward laugh and claps her hands in celebration of the reaping. Her hands clapping are the only sound in the town square. District 12 may be small, poor, and broken, but they are a prideful people. They stand still; looking up at the tributes, their solemn, motionless faces a clear sign that they will not celebrate such atrocities.

 

It's the most rebellious District 12 ever is.

 

Katniss breaks away from her stare-off, embarrassed. Not only was all of District 12 witness to her brazen act of insanity, but it was also recorded for all of Panem to see. Katniss bites down on her thumbnail, which has already been worn down since the morning. _What did I just do? An outburst like that could have had serious consequences._ She's just glad that Effie was able to play it off as some smart-mouthed kid answering her question.

 

She looks back up, once she feels people's eyes have moved on from her, and sees Rye Mellark and the girl tribute, whose name she's already forgotten, shake hands. They're escorted off stage by peacekeepers and taken into the waiting rooms where they'll have exactly one hour to say goodbye to their friends and family... and to come to peace with the fact that they'll never come back home—alive anyway.

 

The crowd starts to disburse. The grieving families and friends begin to line up to say their goodbyes while everyone else celebrates the fact that they were spared and have another year to starve in the safety of their district.

 

Katniss doesn't move.

 

She can't stop thinking about Rye and his family sitting in that waiting room. Trying to cram a lifetime of affection into the 5 minutes that each group is allotted.

 

_Oh Capital,_ She feels sick. She realizes then what she just did.

 

Her outburst may have been embarrassing, but she didn't regret it. She owes the boy with the bread; she owes him her life—her families life. She thought…she thought that by keeping him from volunteering, she'd be repaying the debt. She'd be saving his life—which she regrettably believes is worth more than his brother's. If anyone in this district is deserving of anything in this horrific world, it's Peeta Mellark.

 

And Prim. Of course.

 

But saving his life is not what she did. She has instead given him five— _five_ minutes with his brother. Five minutes to say goodbye or to apologize for letting the seam girl keep him from volunteering—keep him from saving his brother. She has condemned

Peeta to having to watch his brother die in the most horrific of ways.

 

She knows she is not the one who reaped Rye; she's not the one forcing him to go to the Hunger Games, but she took away Peeta's only tool to fight back—to save his brother.

 

If Gale had done what she did, she'd never forgive him.

 

The square is emptying out. Katniss hears her little sister calling for her, and as she looks around, she locks eyes with Peeta Mellark. The look he gives her— dark, and confusing— only makes her feel more guilty about what she did.

 

She can only imagine that in this moment he hates her as much as she hates herself.

 

"Katniss!"

 

Katniss turns away from Peeta's dark look, "Hey little duck! I told you, you weren't going to get picked."

 

Prim nods her head causing her twin braids to swing back and forth; she looks so sweet and innocent then that Katniss is once more relieved that she wasn't reaped. Thank the Capital for small favors. Prim, however, is not as relieved as Katniss expected her to be. She avoids her older sister's eyes, staring at her old worn shoes.

 

"What's wrong?" Katniss tilts Prim's chin up and sees that her eyes are glossy.

 

"Nothing," Prim says, biting down on her lip, which is a clear sign that something is significantly bothering her. Then is occurs to her, "Do you know any of the tributes?"

 

Prim shakes her head, "No…but…"

 

"Oh Prim, come here." Katniss envelopes Prim in a hug. Katniss is not usually so affection in public, but this was Prim's first reaping. Prim is such a sweet, caring, and sensitive girl. Only she would be so affected by seeing two strangers reaped for the Hunger Games. Prim hasn't gotten this upset about it since she was six and realized that the Hunger Games was not just a fun Capital game.

 

When she realized that the players never got to come home.

 

Katniss supposes it's different when you're eligible for the Hunger Games; it has probably made Prim more empathetic. Most people develop a thick skin, and it becomes easier to ignore the Hunger Games. People can only be preoccupied with so many things, like themselves, their families, and their survivals. There's no room for anyone else. It's a waste of energy.

 

Prim clearly doesn't think so. But it's okay, her soft and compassionate nature is what Katniss loves the most about her little duck.

 

Prim looks down at her hand. “Can we give them this?” She holds out the Mockingjay pin. "To keep them safe." She says, mimicking her words from earlier.

 

Katniss looks unsure, “I don’t know…there’s only one pin, Prim. And two tributes.”

 

“But it’s mine, right? You gave it to me. I want them to have it—the boy. You know him…right?”Prim looks at her with large questioning eyes. Prim knows that she trades with the baker; she must assume that's how she knows him—the Mellark boy. The only Mellarks in the district are bakers, so of course that’s who Rye must be and of course that's how she knows him, and of course, she knows him because if she didn't why would she scream.

 

Katniss nods her head. “Ok, I will.”

 

“Katniss!” She hears Gale call for her from behind.

 

“Prim go with Gale and mom, I’ll meet you at home ok.”

 

Prim nods her head, “Tell him I think he could win, okay.”

 

Katniss smiles and kisses her forehead. “I will little duck.”

 

Katniss heads in the opposite direction from her family and Gale, towards the waiting rooms. She sees Gale give her a questioning look, with a twinge of a frown. She turns away in a hurry, not looking forward to the questions he’s sure to ask.

* * *

 

The line is long when she gets there. There are a lot of people, both seam and town alike. Gale was right, Rye is a flirt. The majority of the people waiting for him are girls. A few boys wait in line too. Including the large Seam boy in front of her, who stands stoically with his hands folded over his chest

 

_Wonder why he’s here._

 

A group exists the waiting room.

 

It’s Rye’s family.

 

Katniss panics. How is she going to explain why she's in line? She just met the guy today.

 

Katniss tries to hide, keeps her eyes downcast, and tries to look invisible. She’s good at that, looking invisible and fading into the background.

 

But it doesn’t work. Rye’s mother, the baker’s witch of a wife, hones in on her. "YOU!" She screams, several feet in front of her husband and sons. Surprised at being spotted, Katniss is caught off guard at what happens next. 

 

SLAP!

 

Everyone gasps.

 

"YOU FILTHY LITTLE SEAM BRAT! What gave you the right! I saw what you did! You should have kept your trap shut! You're the reason my baby is going to die!"

 

"Amara!" the baker screams "That's enough!" The baker wraps his arms around her, pulling her away from Katniss and everyone else in line. Their oldest helps in trying to drag his mother away.

 

“Let me go! Good for nothing! The whole lot of you!” She screams.

 

Katniss holds her cheek, stunned and a little ashamed at what just happened.

 

“She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?” She hears the boy in front of her say under his breath.

 

Katniss looks up at him, and that’s when she spots him.

 

Peeta Mellark.

 

“Sorry,” he says. Like it’s his fault for his mother’s actions, his fault his brother is reaped like he doesn’t blame her for what she did. _Sorry_ , that is the first thing Peeta has ever said to her, and she can’t help but think about just how _wrong_ that is. He's staring at her, with his large blue eyes. They're tinged with red; she can see the tear tracks on his cheeks. "Here." He hands her a handkerchief, which looks wet. "For your cheek." Katniss doesn't take handouts, but she's not in a position to deny the boy whose life she's ruined, so she takes it.

Besides, she wants the swelling to go down before she heads home. She already has enough to answer for as it is.

 

“Thanks.” She mumbles, looking down.

 

Peeta begins to walk away before he turns around. "By the way, she wasn't talking to you guys when she said good for nothing." He walks away again, head hung low, dragging his feet as he goes.

 

_You guys?_

 

“Poor boy.” The Seam boy in front of her says. She turns to face him, “You know him?” she asks, curious as to why Peeta would address him.

 

The boy shrugs, “Sure. He’s the baker’s son. His brother just got reaped. What more is there to know.” He turns back around, effectively cutting off any further conversation. Katniss frowns at him and presses the handkerchief closer to her cheek hoping to get rid of any red on her face. Slap or otherwise induced.

 

Ten minutes pass and Katniss is the last one in line. She nervously toys with the pin in her hand. She’s beginning to second-guess her decision to give Rye the pin, mostly because it’s such an out-of-the-blue thing for her to do. She’s not sure how Rye will take it, or even if he’ll accept her gift. Regardless, Katniss promised Prim she’d do this, so she has no choice but to follow through.

 

A minute later the doors open, and the stoic boy from early rushes out. She manages to see a few stray tears running down his face, and then he's gone. Marching his way away from the square toward the seam, shoulders tense. Katniss wonders who he is to Ryean, but before she can ponder it further she’s pushed into the waiting room.

 

"Five minutes." The peacekeeper barks out and then closes the door.

 

Katniss stand awkwardly in front of Rye, toying with the pin in her hand.

 

“Ash told me you were in line. I can’t say I’m not surprised, but I’m glad you came.”

 

_Ash?_ She thinks, _The seam boy from outside?_ “You are?” she asks, “Why?”

 

Rye laughs, then sniffs. His whole face is red, and his eyes are still wet from fresh tears.

 

“Shouldn’t I be asking that? Why’d you come Katniss?”

 

Katniss shrugs her shoulders before shoving her hand in front of his face. “Here. This is for you. From Prim.”

 

Rye takes the pin and runs his thumb over it, admiring the pin. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

 

"It's a Mockingjay."

 

"Mockingjay," Rye repeats.

 

"It's supposed to protect you—at least that what I told my sister. It could be your district token. If you don't have one that is."

 

“This was your sister’s first reaping, right?”

 

Katniss nods her head confused as to how he knew that.

 

"Then I'll treasure it. Who knows? Maybe a Mockingjay will fly by and save me." He jokes.

 

Katniss doesn’t find it funny. She doesn't find any of this funny.

 

“Thank you, Katniss.”

 

“You said that already. Besides the pin isn’t even mine.” 

 

“No. I’m thanking you for what you did in the square. Stopping Peeta. I know what he was going to do. Vounteer—I didn’t want him to do that.”

 

Katniss blushes, “I…I didn’t…I mean that was not—”

 

“Peeta believes my life is worth more than his. Hell, Peeta thinks anybody’s life is worth more than his.” Rye says, interrupting her. He shakes his head, “It’s not true. He’s a great person, better than I’ll ever be, but he doesn’t see it. I tell him all the time how great he is,

makes him blush like a school girl.” He laughs. “Now that I’ll be—” his voice chokes, “Now that I’ll be…gone, I’m worried he won’t hear it from anybody.”

 

"That's not true," Katniss says, thinking about all the friends Peeta has, about his oldest brother, his kind father. Peeta has a lot of people; surely there are people who will remind him of how good a person he is. Surely there will be people who won't blame him for not volunteering for his brother.

 

Ryean just stares at her.

 

Then she thinks about that welt on his cheekbone, the one his mother gave him five years ago. Then she thinks about the last thing Peeta said to her.

 

_“By the way, she wasn’t talking to you guys when she said good for nothing.”_

 

The abuse the baker’s wife impacts on her children is the worst kept secret in the district.

 

“Look, Katniss. I know it’s not fair of me to ask. And you don’t have to do it, but can you just keep an eye out for him. It may not look like it, but Peeta hurts a lot of the time—it makes him lonely.” Rye snorts, “I know it’s dumb, it’s not like he’s in danger, or at risk to starve but…he’s my little brother you know. I wish I could be the one keeping an eye out for him, but well,” he gestures around to the room they’re in, “You know.

 

Katniss bites her thumb. It is dumb. She has a family to feed, to look after. She has enough on her plate without adding another thing onto it. Especially a well-off merchant—but…she has a little sibling too. If she were in Rye's shoes, she'd ask Gale to do the same thing for

Prim, even though he has a family to feed and take care of too.

 

Rye’s request is even more heart wrenching when she thinks about the fact that, as little as she knows any of the Mellark's, he still choose to ask her to look after his baby brother. Peeta must truly have no one else. 

 

“I’ll do it.” She nods. _It’s the least I can do_ , she thinks, _I’ve robbed Peeta of you._

Rye nods. He pins her gift onto the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt.

 

“How do I look?” he laughs.

 

Katniss stares at him, and it’s as if she’s staring at him for the first time. He’s tall, attractive, and strong. He came in first place last year in the wrestling tournament. He’s funny, charming, a giant flirt. The Capitol will love that.

 

A foreign feeling begins to build inside her.

 

Hope.

 

“Like a victor.” She says honestly.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do I look?” he laughs. 
> 
> Katniss stares at him, and it’s as if she’s staring at him for the first time. He’s tall, attractive, and strong. He came in first place last year in the wrestling tournament. He’s funny, charming, a giant flirt. The Capitol will love that. 
> 
> A foreign feeling begins to build inside her.
> 
> Hope.
> 
> “Like a victor.” She says honestly.

The streets are bare by the time Katniss heads home. Everyone is at home already, either celebrating or mourning. Most won't make it out of their homes today unless they want to see the tribute parade in the square. 

 

During the Games, there is a district-wide curfew put in place. The weeks before the tributes are brought into the arena citizens are expected to be at home or in the town square before sundown, that is usually around the time the pre-game coverage airs. Peacekeepers make regular rounds to ensure everyone is where they're supposed to be. But when the tributes are the in the arena the game coverage airs at all hours. The curfew is still intact then, but the Peacekeepers rounds become more random. If you're not at the square, then it's safer to stay near a projector at all times. Peacekeepers aren't lenient if you're caught not watching the Games.

 

It’s like Gale says, there’s no point if no one watches, so the Capitol makes sure everyone does.

 

Katniss has only heard of one case of someone getting caught out past curfew during the Games. She was seven at the time, and her parents hadn't let her walk pass the square once the news of someone getting caught had spread. But Katniss being as stubborn as she is decided to disobey her parents and snuck off to see what the big deal was. All she managed to see were a pair of legs hanging above the stage before her father caught her and managed to cover her eyes.

 

That was when Katniss learned not to underestimate the law enforcement in their District. They may illegal buy meat from her father, and hang out in the District’s black market, but that didn’t mean they had equal footing. Peacekeepers had power over everyone, and anyone with any sense would do well not to forget that.

 

Katniss is not at risk for breaking curfew. It's still early, only three in the afternoon, so she makes sure to walk as slow as she can and makes sure to take the long route home. The longer she can avoid Gale and Prim’s questioning the better.She should be thinking of a good cover story, to explain her outburst and why she visited Rye before he was taken to the Capitol, but all she can think of are her final moments with him.

 

_"Thanks, but you don't have to lie to me."_

 

_“I'm not. You will be among the oldest, and strongest in the arena. All you need to do is charm the audience—get sponsors.”_

 

_“Katniss, I'm…I'm not coming home okay. So just forget it."_

 

_“But—“_

 

_“Five minutes are up.” A peacekeeper walks in and roughly pulls her away._

 

_“Wait!” She yells, “You can win!”_

 

_The peacekeeper continues to pull her away._

 

_“You have to win!”_

 

_They shove her outside._

 

_“Do it for—“_

 

_The door gets slammed in her face before she can tell Rye to win for his brother. For Peeta. Not that it might have done him any good, there’s no way a man—boy— resigned to die has any fight left in him to win._

 

Katniss huffs, frustrated. Rye sounded so offended—defeated—when she said he could win, even though she genuinely thinks he can win. She doesn't know Rye well enough to know if he'd be a good killer, but then again who can? It's not a trait often evaluated—unless you are from a career district. Most tributes kill though; the ones that survive the bloodbath will usually have at least one kill. It's horrible to watch, but when someone is swinging a sword at your face, it's either kill or get killed. Rye will at least have a greater chance of defending himself than most other tributes—especially the younger ones. 

 

If only he didn’t give up on himself.

 

Katniss doesn't understand, he has the means to do well in the Games, and he has a reason to fight—his family, his brothers. That should be enough, right? Enough to motivate him to fight, to survive, to win.

 

She doesn’t even care about Reyan Mellark, but if he dies, there will be nothing she could ever do to repay the boy with the bread. If his brother dies, that will be one debt she will never be able to repay.

 

And Katniss hates owing people.

* * *

 

“Did you give it to him?”

 

"Hello to you too, little duck," Katniss responds, closing the front door.

 

“Well? Did you?” Prim insists.

 

Katniss nods, “ I did. And he said thank you. It was a really beautiful gift.”

 

Prim beams. “Good. Do you think he'll win?”

 

A pregnant pause follows as Katniss thinks over what to say. She doesn't lie to Prim, but she does tend to keep some things from her, to protect her from the harsh realities of their world. But Katniss can't protect Prim from the Games; it's a cruel reality shared by all. So while her instinct is to lie to reassure Prim, she knows that it's not fair to get Prim's hopes up. But it's also not right to completely squash her hopes either, especially when she's just as hopeful as her little sister that Ryean Mellark may be their next victor.

 

Katniss carefully thinks over what to tell her sister.

 

_Do I think he'll win?_

 

_No. The odds aren’t in his favor. Twenty-four tributes and only one victor._

 

_Yes. The odds are in his favor. He'll be amongst the oldest and better-fed tributes._

 

_No. He doesn’t believe in himself._

 

_Yes. He has to win; he has friends—family._

 

_No. He’s already given up._

 

_Yes. He has to win—for Peeta._

 

_He HAS to win._

 

Katniss places her hands on Prim's slender shoulders. "I hope so." Prim hugs her, tight, pressing her head into her middle.

 

“I hope so too.” She mumbles.

 

Katniss pats her head, affectionately. She lets Prim hug her for as long as she needs. Panem may think she’s old enough to compete in a battle to the death—although, no one is ever old enough to do that—but Prim will always be her little duck. Her sensitive, caring, little duck, who just went through the only thing Katniss can’t protect her from. So if she needs a few extra seconds of cuddling, Katniss is alright with that. This is something she can do.

 

She really hopes Rye wins. Not just for his family, or for Peeta, but for Prim too. To give Prim some hope, to spare her some hurt that the Games bring to everyone. She'll owe him indefinitely for such a rare gift. Katniss hates owing people, but if Rye comes back a victor, she doubts there will be anything she can offer him—except, perhaps, to keep her promise of looking after Peeta while Rye is away on the victory tour, or back in the Capitol as a mentor.

 

"Katniss." Her mother's distant voice breaks the tender moment between the sisters. "Could you help me with this?" Her mother isn't very far, she's standing in their small kitchen which is right next to their small living room, but since her father's death, and since her mother came back from whatever dark world she retreated to, she's had a distant quality to her voice. It's quite and airy and suggests she's not quite back from whatever dark hole she threw herself in after her husband's death.

 

“Why don’t you go tend to lady? She must be hungry.” Katniss tells her sister, pulling away from their hug.

 

“I already fed her.” Prim states.

 

“Then why don’t you try milking her? We could use some more goat cheese.”

 

"Sorry about that. I'll make sure I cover it better next time so that Buttercup won't get it."

 

“It’s okay. I guess even that mangy cat deserves something nice once in a while.” Katniss does not believe that at all, the thing is lucky to still be alive.

 

Prim smiles and makes her way out back, where her beloved pet goat, Lady, resides, tied up in their back pen. Katniss goes into the kitchen to help her mother prepare dinner. It will be a special occasion, as it is every year that the Everdeens and the Hawthornes are safe from the Games, but this year is extra special because Gale will be the first of them to be free of the Games completely. She can’t imagine what that must feel like, to be free of the games. She guesses that it must not be that giant a relief, not with three younger siblings all of whom have many years of reapings in front of them. She can’t believe there’s much relief to be found.

 

Katniss gets to work skinning a rabbit that was caught in one of Gale's traps this morning, while her mother busies herself making a salad. They work in silence, an unsaid burden hanging between them. She's not helping her mother because she wants to or because she requested. She's helping because feeding this family is what she does because she can't allow her mother to do anything if she wants something done right.

 

“It’s great that Gale survived his last reaping. Hazel must be so happy.” Her mother mummers.

 

Katniss says nothing. Her mother does this sometimes; say things, like she’s trying to start a conversation. Most times they lead nowhere, and not only because Katniss is unwilling to participate, but because her mother has a tendency to drift in and out. In from one mood, one thought, and then on to the next. It’s exhausting trying to keep up with her, which is why Katniss doesn’t bother to try.

 

“I can’t wait until your last reaping.” Her mother starts again, her voice low and distant. “It will be such a relief. You’ll be free, free to do what you want. Wouldn’t that be great?”

 

Katniss turns towards her mother, confused. Free to do what? Work in the mines? Starve? What freedom—what relief can be found in District 12? If it's not the Games, it's something else, hunger, infection, poverty, despair.

Katniss clenches her fist tight, pressing her bloody fingers into her palm. Her mother lives in her own world most days; it's not surprising that she sees things in an entirely unreal way. It just angers her so much that her mother doesn't see the reality of their world, of their situation, and it's things like this that make her unreliable as a mother, as a provider, a caregiver.

 

She turns back around, going back to her bloody task. Her mother is used to her cold shoulder and says nothing, going back to wherever it is she goes when she can’t stand to be around her daughters. They continue their tasks in silence, but Katniss, unable to hold in her anger, blurts out “Prim will still be in danger. Don’t forget.”

 

Her mother stares at her, the lines of her face making her look more withered, more tied. Her mother was pretty once, but that was a long time ago, before she fell in love, before the Seam. "I won't," she whispers, her eyes glossing over. She turns back, finishing the salad before starting on the stew. Prim walks in sometime later. Too repulsed by the idea of having to skin an animal, she takes a seat on their small couch and reads a book. It's quite in the Everdeen home, except for the content sounds coming from Buttercup as Prim scratches his back.

 

Her mother doesn't say thing for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

The Hawthornes show up before dinner is ready. They show up early on purpose so that they don't run the risk of getting spotted by a peacekeeper. It's still an hour before curfew, but that doesn't stop peacekeepers from harassing anyone they "suspect" of breaking or intending to break the law.

 

The peacekeepers in District 12 are typically really forgiving toward criminal behavior, but they're stricter during the Games. Gales says it's because there are more eyes paying attention during the Games, making sure there are no signs of discontent—of rebellion. Katniss thinks he's paranoid. It's District 12, an outlier district, no one ever pays attention to them.

 

Hazel Hawthorne, Gale's mother and the matriarch of the Hawthorne clan, greets Katniss's mother before heading over to her and Prim. Hazel greets the Everdeen sisters with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Katniss is not a fan of physical affection, and aside from Prim, doesn't let anyone touch her, but Hazel is a special case. She's practically family, and more importantly, Katniss has a great deal of respect for her.

Hazel was pregnant with her fourth child when her husband died in the mines. As soon as she gave birth to her youngest, and only girl, Posy, she went right to work. She became a laundress, taking on other people's piles of dirty clothes. It's backbreaking work, Hazel's hands are callused, dry, and often bleed and the pay is pitiful, but it's enough to keep her family afloat, and that's what counts. Hazel is everything a good mother should be, everything her own mother is not.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Hawthrone.” Prim beams.

 

“Please, call me Hazel.”

 

Prim giggles, “Ok…Hazel.”

 

Katniss rolls her eyes. They do this every time they see each other. Hazel prefers being called Hazel by everyone, but Prim is so polite she insists on calling her by her last name, that is until Hazel insist she not be so formal.

Prim complies but it only lasts an evening at most, and then the whole cycle repeats itself. Hazel must have an infinite amount of patience to put up with it every time. Then again, it is Prim. As annoying as Katniss finds the whole thing to be, she’d probably put up with it too for Prim.

 

“You survived your first reaping.” Hazel says excitedly, “How are you feeling?”

 

"To be honest…I feel relieved." Prim says, a hint of remorse in her voice.

 

"We're all relieved, it's normal," Hazel says warmly.

 

“You must be especially relieved, with Gale having aged out.”

 

Hazel nods, “Oh I am! Which is why I made something special.”

 

“What?—”

 

A loud thud interrupts Katniss question. Everyone turns toward the kitchen table, where Gale and his brothers have placed the various food they've brought for tonight's feast.

 

"Fish. It's fish; you know the ones we caught this morning, Catnip." Gale's steely gray eyes lock on Katniss. He has questions, that much is obvious, he's irritated too. She suspects he's upset that she ignored him after the reaping. Gale can be so childish sometimes it frustrates her.

 

While an irritated Gale isn’t ideal, an angry Gale is much worse. Katniss will just have to figure out a convincing enough lie to tell him for why she did what she did at the reaping.

 

"Yes, Gale. I doubt Katniss has forgotten such a good catch." Hazel says sternly, having taken notice of her oldest's bitter tone. She walks over to Gale and shoos him away. She unwraps the fish, which is still raw. The smell of raw fish is strong, especially in this heat, but Katniss can detect hints of herbs and…spices?

 

“Spices?” Katniss’s mother asks, reading her mind.

 

“Yea, I had a little saved up for a special occasion. Used it to prepare the fish.”

 

Wow, spices. It is unheard of for anyone in the Seam to be in possession of spices, other than salt. Even some merchants are unable to get their hands on the stuff. Katniss is surprised Hazel managed to acquire some and is even more curious about how she did it.

 

"Well, having a child age out of the Games is definitely worth celebrating. I can't wait until Katniss ages out." Says her mother, echoing the conversation she had with herself this afternoon.

 

"Well, I was originally going to wait until Gale's toasting, but who knows when that'll be." Everyone laughs, except for Gale and Katniss. Gale presumably for not enjoying being made fun of, and Katniss because she doesn't find marriage to be something that should be celebrated. Not when it leads to co-dependency and children. Not when she lives in District 12, in a place where your loved ones can starve to death, and your children can be taken away from you.

 

“Mom.” Gale moans.

 

"Oh, I was only kidding. Why don't you kids go play while we finish cooking up the rest of this feast."

Gale's brothers are quick to run away from being roped into helping in the kitchen. They take off running, chasing after Buttercup. Gale has a running bet going with the two; the first to capture Buttercup will be the first person he takes out to the woods. Both his brothers want to learn to hunt like Gale, but teaching takes time away from hunting, so when Gale's brothers started begging him to take them to the woods, he thought up the bet to make sure that would never happen. Buttercup may be an ugly mangy thing, but he is a master at hiding and running away. There's no way either one will ever catch him, not anytime soon at least.

 

"Wanna go pet Lady, Posy?" Prim takes little Posy from Hazel arms so that she and her mother can fish cooking the fish and the rabbit. She walks away holding a babbling Posy in her arms. That leaves only Gale and her, standing awkwardly by the kitchen.

 

“I’m going to turn on the projector. Peacekeepers will be starting their rounds soon.” It’s a flimsy excuse to get out of talking to Gale, and it only delays the inevitable for a short while.

Katniss turns on the projector, and the Capitol seal and anthem light up their shabby living room. The seal is then replaced by the artificial faces of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, hosts of the Hunger Games, discussing the televised reapings.

 

Oh no, Katniss thinks, falling onto the couch. This is what she was afraid of; they’re going to air her brief moment of insanity. Katniss groans. They’re already on District 10. She feels a dip on the other side of the couch as Gale takes a seat. “What wrong?” he asks, his voice sounding tense.

 

"We missed the career districts; I wanted to know what we were up against this year." Katniss lies, surprised with how easy the lie came to her. She does want to see what Rye will be against this year—the career tributes are always the ones to beat—but she's more upset about what the Capitol will air when they get to District 12, and with everyone she knows here in one room she's sure there will be questions.

 

“We?”

 

“What?”

 

“You just said we, what we were up against. Katniss,” Gale sighs, “What’s going on? What happened out in the square—”

 

"Oh, my Capitol." Katniss whispers, interrupting Gale. "She's so young."

 

"What?" Gale turns back to the screen and sees a little girl making her way up to the reaping stage in District 11. She's so small and thin; her formal clothes hang like rags on her. She looks so young and innocent on that stage; this has to be her first reaping. Katniss feels a great swell of pity for the girl. She reminds her so much of Prim.

 

"And now, onto the boys!" District 11's cheery escort exclaims. She totters to the other end of the stage where she reaches in and pulls out a name. "Thresh Oakland!" A giant, bulky boy makes his way to the stage.

Gale lets out a whistle, “Poor girl. There’s no way her family will ever see her again.”

 

“Gale!”

 

“What? It’s true! Look at the boy, if the career tributes are anything like him then no way she stands a chance.”

 

Before Katniss can protest how callous Gale is being the animated voice of Caesar interrupts her.

 

“Would you look at the size of that boy? He’s sure to be a contender this year!”Caesar laughs.

 

“I can already feel the bets coming in!” Claudius adds.

 

"And now onto our last District. With a mentor like Haymitch Abernathy, District 12 always provides a source of comedic entertainment before the start of the Games." The screen cuts to the reaping in District 12's town square where a very drunk Haymitch pummels over the edge of the stage. "Don't worry folks, we've been assured he's okay."

 

“Except for a wicked case of hangover. You know Caesar, with hits like that, it’s no wonder Haymitch won his games.” The hosts laugh, just as she’s sure everyone in the Capitol is laughing.

 

“But you know, as entertaining as Haymitch is, he wasn’t the only one humiliated today.”

 

“What do you mean, Caesar?”

 

“District 12’s lovely escort, Effie, had a heckler in the crowd.”

 

“No! In a reaping? How can that be?”

 

"I don't know, but let's watch."

 

The scene cuts back to District 12, as Effie calls out the girl tribute. The girl hasn't even made it to the stage yet before Effie is already reaching into the bowl with the boy names. Katniss cringes, knowing what they are going to show. She looks at Gale, whose attention is solely on the screen, his jaw is locked tight, and his brows are furrowed. If he has questions about what happened earlier today then now would be the perfect time to ask. It's not like she can pretend it wasn't her that yelled out during the reaping.

 

“Ryean Mellark!” A tall, blonde boy makes his way to the stage.

 

"It's weird, isn't it?" Gale announces.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean…we just saw him this morning. Hard to believe we were looking at a dead man walking.”

 

“Gale!” Prim gasps. Katniss and Gale turn around to see Prim standing behind them with Posy still in her arms.“That’s an awful thing to say.”

 

“Prim, I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

_“Are there any volunteers?”_

 

Oh no.

 

Silence. Followed by a strong, resounding _“NO!”_

 

It shouldn't be a big deal that someone yelled out no, it could have been anyone that did it. Parents and loved ones often yell out when a person they love is called, but Rye isn't someone she loves, and still, they zoom in on her.

 

_“Oh my…well that was rude, but if you feel that strongly about it…how about we give a round of applause for our latest tributes!”Effie laughs awkwardly._

 

“You know that’s not what I think that was?” Caesar says, cutting back to the live Capitol footage.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I don’t think that was a defiant outcry. It was obviously a love-torn cry. That poor girl was mourning for her fair-haired lover.”

 

“Oh! You know I think you’re right!”

 

“I know! I can’t wait to interview him!”

 

Katniss mentally thanks and curses Caesar. In one breath he has saved her from suspicions of rebellion and condemned her as a love-sick girl. Something she is far from.

 

“Katniss is that true?” Prim yells.

 

“Oooh! Katniss like a boy!” Gale’s younger brother, Rory, taunts.

 

"Ew! That's gross." Gale's other brother, Vick, adds.

 

"No!" Katniss yells getting up from the couch. "We are not together, and I don't like him! I barely even know him!" Everyone stops what they're doing, even their mothers working in the kitchen.

 

“Then can you explain what the hell that was out today?”

 

“Gale!” His mother chides, “There is no need to talk to her like that.”

 

"I'm sorry mama, but you're wrong. Katniss, do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was? You painted a target on your back! You're lucky they don't see it as some rebellious act, but you actually think that not even one person will see it that way? And for what? Why do you even care?"

 

Katniss bites her lip, taking in all Gale is saying. It's so true it's irritating. He's absolutely right. She did paint a target on her back; the peacekeepers will start to keep a special eye on her, make sure she doesn't make any more noise. "Well, we don't have to worry about it anymore. The whole capitol—the country—thinks I'm just some love-sick girl." Katniss takes a deep breath, trying not to raise her voice, trying not to scare Prim. "So let's forget about it. Peacekeepers will be here soon, and they don't need to see us discussing it."

 

“Wait—”

 

"Gale hush down, Katniss is right. The whole street will be able to hear you if you keep this up. We'll be done with dinner soon, come help us set the table." Gale grumbles before compiling with his mother's demand. Katniss sits back down, placing her head in between her hands.She can feel everybody's stare on her. This is so humiliating. She was so stupid. Gale is mad at her, the country is judging her, the peacekeepers must be wary of her now, she condemned Peeta's brother to the Games and just—ugh—she's made a real mess of things.

 

She feels a slight dip next to her. She looks up to see Prim staring at her with large, understanding eyes.

 

“I know why you did it.” She whispers, grabbing hold of her hand and rubbing soothing circles over her palms.

 

Katniss raises a brow. How? How could her sister know why she did what she did when even she isn't sure. Doesn't understand what came over her. Unless...did she see him? Peeta?

 

“Why?”

 

“Because.” Her sister says simply, “It was the right thing to do.” 

 

Katniss is stunned by the answer and a little confused. She wants to ask more but doesn't get the chance when there's a knock at the door. The home becomes silent. There is only one reason someone would be knocking at this time of day. Peacekeepers.

 

Hazel opens the door. On her porch stands two peacekeepers. One with a helmet on, holding a gun and another standing in front of him holding the same gun but with no helmet on.

 

“Peacekeeper Darius.” Hazle greets respectfully.

 

Katniss lets out a breath of relief. Darius is the youngest and probably least aggressive peacekeeper in the District. He also routinely visits the Hob and is one of her best customers.

 

"Citizen" Darius answers back. He knows who she is, but as a peacekeeper, he must remain impartial. "May we come in?" Hazel barely nods before they waltz in. It's a demand framed as a question. Like that fools anybody.

 

They take count of the heads and names of everyone inside. They also make sure the projector is running. Their mother continues their cooking as the peacekeepers resume their surveillance. These check-ins aren't usually so tense, but with Katniss mistake out in the open, everyone holds their breath in anticipation.

 

Darius checks off some things on his clipboard. "Alright. Clear. Enjoy your view."

 

Gale snorts, but luckily the peacekeepers don't hear. That doesn't stop the furious glare she throws Gale's way. When he notices he throws an equally angry glare back. The peacekeepers leave, and just as Hazel is closing the door, Darius turns back and says.

 

“Oh, and Katniss? I know you’re excited about the Games, but remember you have neighbors, so no more outburst, okay?” And then he leaves.

 

If another peacekeeper had said it, she would have been shaking right now, but since it's Darius, she knows to take his words for what they are—a friendly warning. Maybe the other peacekeepers didn't recognize her, but Darius obviously would, and he's warning her to be careful—to stay quite.

 

Not long after the peacekeepers leave, they are all seated at their long table. Even though the Hawthornes have more people, their table is smaller, which is why they generally come over and eat at the Everdeens. Her father had commissioned the table from a well-known Seam carpenter. Her father provided the wood and paid in fresh game. It was an anniversary gift for her mother, and a good investment too. Too often their table is used to treat the sick and severely injured.

 

Despite the earlier tension and Gale obviously still being mad at her, the meal is lively. Hazel has a gift for stringing together conversations about nothing, being careful to avoid any touchy subjects like the Games, Gale's future in the mines, and Katniss outburst during the reaping. The boys hold a side conversation of their own. Katniss overhears some, and apparently, they're going to team up to try to catch Buttercup. Smart plan.

As everyone else is engaged in conversation, Prim helps feed Posy, a large grin on her face. Prim is naturally caring and sweet, but the warmth and eagerness with which she cares for Posy scares her sometimes. Katniss isn't certain, but she presumes Prim would very much like to grow up and have a child of her own. She'd be a good mother too, and that's what scares Katniss so much.

 

The happy mood around the table lessens when the tribute parade is announced. They all turn to face the project just in time to see the first chariot make its entrance—District 1, luxury items. The tributes from one are dressed in gaudy feather dresses adorned with jewels. More and more chariots make their way down.

 

The tribute parade is the first official _presentation_ of the tributes. The first time besides the reaping that they get to make an impression. The tributes are made-up to look more polished and then dressed in ridiculous costumes that represent their districts. It's incredibly stupid and just another way the Capitol manipulates and tortures the poor tributes. Of course, it's also a double-edged sword because regardless of how stupid the whole thing is, rich capitolites attend the tribute parade and if you can impress them your chances of surviving the Games are that much higher. Unfortunately for District 12, they never make an impression. Every year it's the same stupid consume. Since their district's main export is coal, their tributes are always dressed up as coal miner uniforms, or worse yet they're undressed and decorated with coal dust. 

 

As the last chariot approaches, District 12’s chariot, that is what Katniss expects to see. Coal miners, but instead, what she sees is

 

"Fire." Her mother whispers.

 

"Shit, they're on fire," Gale exclaims.

 

“That can’t be safe, can it?” Prim voices with worry.

 

“They don’t seem to be in pain.” Hazel reassure Prim, “But it is impressive.”

 

Impressive? It's beautiful. The fire that flickers off the back of their capes looks like wings, making District 12's tributes more radiant and beautiful than ever before. Even the sickly skinny female tribute, although she pales in comparison to the radiance that Rye exudes. Whereas the female tribute stands small and scared, Rye stands tall, confident and with a giant smile on his face.

 

"That self-centered prick must fit in so easily in the Capitol."

 

"Gale!" Hazel reprimands, "Have some respect."

 

"Why should I? It's not like he was a great guy to begin with—so egotistical, but what can you expect from a merchant."

 

"Not all merchants are like that." Prim whispers. Gale doesn't argue. He knows better that do that that is unless he wants Katniss not to speak to him for a week.

 

"Maybe it's his plan." Katniss interjects, "To win sponsors. I mean you can't argue that he's making an impression." No one says anything, but Gale stares at her, his gaze unreadable, which is unusual. Katniss and Gale know each other so well, and since hunting requires they make as little noise as possible, they've become skilled at reading each other and communicating nonverbally. Now, though, she can't make of what he's thinking.

 

They continue their feast and continue to watch. Even though Katniss is more invested in this year's Games, it's no different for any else at the table. So Katniss pushes back the urgency she feels to continue watching and forces a smile. After all, today is suppose to be celebratory; Gale is free. Of course, come Monday Gale will be forced into a whole new prison. The mines.

 

* * *

 

"Thank you for having us over. Dinner was lovely." Hazel compliments her mother. The feast was amazing, as it is every year. It's another unfortunate aspect of the Games that they're held during the most bountiful time of year.

 

The tribute parade and pre-game coverage ended an hour ago, which makes it safe for the Hawthorns to walk back home without fear of running into a Peacekeeper. Once goodbyes are said, Katniss goes to close the door when Gales calls for her.

 

"Catnip, Can I talk to you for a second?"

 

Katniss nods, hesitantly, and steps outside. She stands in the dark of her front porch, Gale's family already walking away and her own family getting ready for bed. She crosses her arms in silence. Since Gale asked for her she's going to let him speak first, it’s not like she has anything she wants to share.

 

Gales huffs, clearly irritated. “Katniss,” he starts, saying her name harsher than normal, “Talk to me.”

 

Katniss nearly shrugs, “I don’t have anything to say.”

 

Gale’s brow furrows, his irritation quickly becoming anger. “Katniss, it’s like night and day with you today. I mean, I don’t get it. One minute you're too scared to run off into the woods and then the next you're staging some type of—I don't know—protest in the square. What the hell happened?"

 

“Gale!” Katniss hisses, "Are you aware of what you said? Someone could hear you!" 

 

"See! Like that!" Gale exclaims, quieter this time. "You already painted a target on your back, and now you're all worried."

 

“I’m aware Gale. That’s why we can’t talk about this…just…forget it.”

 

“I can’t forget it.” Gale whispers, “What happened in the Town Square. I know it can’t be about Rye, I mean you just met him today.”

 

"Children were reaped, Gale, to fight to the death. It's upsetting; I mean…what more do you want."

 

“It’s never bothered you before.”

 

Katniss is taken aback by his last comment. It's true that she, like most people in District 12, have become accustomed to soldier on regardless of the cruelty of the Games, but Gales knows better than anyone that she can't afford to let the Hunger Games get to her, to slow her down, and makes her as miserable and sad as her mother.

She has a family to protect, to feed. She also doesn't enjoy participating in Gale's angry rants about the Games and the Capitol. She just doesn't see the point. Things will never change. Her attitude may appear like she's simply ignoring everything that's happening around her, but it's not that she doesn't care. The Games bother her just as much as it bothers Gale, as much as it bothers everyone in the districts.

 

But what can she do, she's only one person.

 

"Goodnight, Gale," Katniss says harshly. She goes inside before Gale can respond or reach out to her. As she closes the door, she can hear Gale kick at something hard and muttering to himself as he walks away. Her mother and Prim are already in the bedroom, leaving her alone in the room. She takes a seat against the closed door, hugging her knees.

 

Gale is stubborn like herself; he's going to keep poking and prodding until he gets a solid answer from her. She isn't the best of liars and with the Games only beginning it's not like she will be able to hide her fears about Rye.

 

Gale is her best friend and her hunting partner, harmony is essentially between them, but with her secret now creating a riff between them, she's not sure how they'll be able to keep that balance. The clear solution, however, is not an option. She can't tell Gale about Peeta and about the bread that saved her family's life. It's not only because Gale hates the merchant class and will interpret Peeta's kind act as pity but because that moment in the rain when she was at her weakest, is such a personal memory. She shares so much with Gale, more than anyone, but this memory, this gift of hope that Peeta gave her—a gift she knows she will never be able to repay—belongs just to her.

 

So even though it hurts to fight with Gale, she will keep her mouth shut and hope—something she doesn’t normally do—that Rye Mellark makes it through the Games unscathed.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s two days later, the last two days before Gale has to enter the mines and she’s hardly seen him.

The prideful, stubborn—ugh! Dame you, Gale.

Katniss honestly didn’t think that Gale’s frustration with her would interfere with their hunting. It just seemed too important to be affected by Gale’s petty feelings. And yet, here she sits alone in the woods without her hunting partner.

The day of the reaping, with so many Capitolites coming into the District, the electricity is turned on, which meant the fence is electrified and therefore, no hunting. The fence, while not as strongly electrified the next day is still on, so Gale and she typically don't bother going out to the woods. However, on Saturday, the day after the reaping, her mother had run out of some herbs that a patient of hers desperately needed. Luckily, the herbs she needed grow in the meadow near the fence. Prim had been obsessively watching the Games coverage so Katniss went out to gather them and that's when she spotted him. Gale, with a game bag slung over his shoulder, sneaking back into the District.

“Gale?”

Gale freezes, like a buck that knows it’s been spotted. He didn’t turn to look at her just stared ahead as if he could keep on walking and pretend he didn't hear her. 

“Gale? What the hell?”

“Katniss,” Gale finally says, his whole body sagging, “I can—”

“You went into the woods? Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?”

“The fence was off. Besides, I don’t need you lecturing me on what’s dangerous or not.” Gale spits out.

“Why’d you go by yourself? If you wanted to hunt, you could have just told me. It’s safer out there with the two of us.”

“Geez, Katniss, ever think that maybe I just wanted to be alone. Look, I don’t have time for this, I have to trade. Here.” He shoves a small bag in her direction.

“Keep it.” Katniss refuses angrily, partly frustrated at Gale and his exclusion of her and partly because this feels eerily like a handout.

Gale groans, “Katniss…stop. Things can’t keep being like this.”

“What do you mean?” Does he mean their partnership? Would Gale truly risk their friendship and mutual help over an argument? Over something he knows nothing about?

“I mean…I’m going into the damn mines. I mean…you’re angry that we didn’t go hunt together when in two days time I’ll be stuck underground for most my life. We won’t be able to hunt anymore—”

"Yes, we will. Sundays. You'll have Sundays off."

“Katniss, I’ll be dead tired on Sundays. I don’t think I’ll be able to meet you at our usual time.”

“So we’ll meet later. I don’t see the—”

"No, Katniss. We can't meet later. Not if we want to avoid predators eating the snares. Look, you're not getting it…"

“So then, what? You want to call off our partnership?”

“No, would you just listen? I’m still going to be setting snares, and I’ll still do some hunting on Sundays, it’s just…” Gale trails off,

Katniss stays quiet, letting Gale gather his words. It's difficult, and his frustration is showing. Gale, like herself, isn't very good with words, but if anything, he looks more annoyed that she can't figure out what he's trying to say. Truthfully, it frustrates her too.

“Just…what, Gale?”

"Forget it…would you just take the damn bag already?"

“Not until you explain yourself. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Me? You want me to explain myself? What’s going on with me? How about you tell me what’s going on with you, huh? If you can’t—won’t—I don’t see why I have too.”

"Is that what this is about? I told you, Gale, it's nothing…" She shouldn't have said that. Gale is right; she's keeping things from him like he's doing now but what's going on with her has nothing to do with Gale or their hunting, but whatever is bothering Gale is clearly about her and Katniss simply can't let that slide. "It has nothing to do with us. You being upset is clearly about me.”

“It’s not nothing! I mean, seriously, you don’t see it? Answer me this, how do you know that I won’t do this again tomorrow? Go hunting on my own and not tell you about it.”

“…I don’t…I don’t know, that’s why I want to clear this up. It’s not helpful to either of us if we go at it alone.”

“That’s exactly it, Katniss. With me in the mines, it’ll be just you going out into the woods. I…I expected you would check the snare lines and that you’d bring my share of the catch to my family—”

“I would, Gale. I will, of course.”

“But now…”

_Now?_

“You won’t even take the haul I brought you—not to mention the lack of trust.”

Lack of trust? What does he mean? She's still confused by everything Gale is trying to tell her, but at the very least she can understand that he may feel insulted she didn't take the game bag. Regardless of how impolite the action may have seemed, Gale more than anyone should know that's it's reflexive to deny handouts. Not that the game bag is a handout, it's their partnership at work; of course, some habits are hard to break. 

“Gale…” Katniss whispers, “I trust you more than anyone.”

Gale scoffs, "Well clearly you don't. Something is going on, and you don't trust me enough to tell me. You're the one that's upset that I'm harming our partnership when you're the one keeping secrets. Ugh, I don't have time for this. Bye, Katniss."

Gale brushes past her, his tall and lean frame pushing past her with ease. It doesn’t escape her notice that he takes both game bags with him, not that it bothers Katniss all that much, she wasn’t expecting fresh game today.

The following day Katniss finds herself alone in the woods. It's Sunday and Gale's last free day before he goes into the mines. It's like Gale said, she wasn't sure if he'd show. She hoped he'd put whatever negative feelings he had aside for the sake of hunting, but it seems Gale's hurt feelings run deep. So, here she sits, alone in the quiet and calmness of the woods feeling like a complete idiot.

She just doesn’t get it.

Why is Gale so upset? They're close, but it's not like they share every thought or feeling they have with each other. Maybe he's upset because whatever secret he thinks she's harboring has to do with Rye. Gale never was fond of Townies. And what is with this lack of trust? She hasn't done anything to make him think he can't trust her, unlike he, who has interfered with their hunting two days in a row now.

Katniss never had a reason to doubt Gale, well not since those first few months after they began their tentative partnership, but even then with all her reservations about the older, brooding Gale their partnership had blossomed into something great, something familiar, comforting, and most importantly, efficient.

There is so much uncertainty in her world, and of all the things she has to worry about, she never thought her partnership with Gale would be one of them. She presumed Gale understood that their partnership was simply too important to ever be affected by what goes on inside the fence. Not even the mines would be able to interfere, or so she used to think.

Katniss hates the idea of him being down there, so much that she refused to talk about it for months leading up to his eighteenth birthday, partially because she was certain that Gale would be reaped. She hoped that wouldn't be the case, but the odds weren't in his favor.

Maybe she's insensitive. Gale understands how much she hates the mines, but unlike him, Katniss knew she would never have to face the reality of going down there herself. Everyone in the Seam at one point ends up working down there. Both men and women, if they're not pregnant, and then eventually the widows when their husbands pass. 

Her overwhelming fear of the mines would never allow her to step foot inside, and fortunately, her mother agrees that there are other ways of surviving in District 12 without working in the mines. But Gale has too many siblings, and unlike Prim, none of them have a trade or skill to fall back on.

Perhaps that is the reason for Gale's anger. The mines. Maybe he's jealous that he won't be able to spend as much time in the woods as her anymore. Perhaps that was the reason behind his talk of running away; it wasn't just fear of the reaping, it was fear of being stuck in the mines, forever trapped by the circumstances of their lives.

Katniss ponders all this as she quietly makes her way through the forest. She’s deep in thought when a skittish squirrel runs past her and up a tree, she's so distracted by thoughts of Gale and the mines, that she nearly misses it. She aims quickly and shoots only for her arrow to impale on the trunk of the tree. 

"Danmit," She whispers, not wanting to scare off more game. She curses herself for her lack of focus and curses Gale for being her distraction. Although she's come to appreciate Gale's partnership over the years, she regrets now having become so dependent on it—on him. She should have anticipated something like this to happen. Everything is temporary—food, warmth, people. This is precisely why she hates getting close to people. The only person she can depend on is herself.

She still wants to fix her relationship with Gale, he is her best friend after all, and if she can keep their partnership from dissolving, then that would be great. But perhaps she should focus on sustaining herself and her family on her own for a while, at least until Gale cools off.

She doesn't want to hate Gale, but she'd never forgive him or herself if her family's well-being started to be affected by this. If she can’t provide for her family as well as she did when she was with Gale, then she’d only have herself to blame. For relaying on him so much.

She takes a deep breath and aims, her arm straight and all thoughts of Gale abandoned. She points up, takes another breath, and releases. A bird falls down, dead, a few feet in front of her.

Who needs Gale anyway.

* * *

 

True to her word, she avoids Gale for a week, giving him space to cool off and get his head—and priorities—in check. It’s easy to avoid him when he’s down in the mines 12 hours a day. But even in the depths of darkness, no one can escape the Games.Mandatory viewing continues as do the Peacekeepers’ rounds.

Katniss stands in her kitchen, skinning squirrels and separating their pelts from the meat. The pelts will come in handy when it starts to get cold out, and she can always sell the extra to the tanner. She salts the meat and puts some away with the rest. Katniss will never complain about having too much food, but as it is, some of the meat they have will start to go bad.

She's already given some to Hazel. Not as much as she would have liked, but the older woman didn't want to take too much. Katniss tried telling her it was Gale's half, but the older woman gave her a knowing look. It seems Hazel is aware of her son's foul mood and probably already knows her and Gale aren't speaking at the moment. Normally, the extra squirrels would be sold to the Baker, but Katniss hasn't had the courage to knock on their back door since Rye was reaped.

Her mother sits at the table, making herbal remedies, and Prim sits in front of the projector, absentmindedly petting Buttercup. Since the actual games haven't started yet, the game coverage so far has been uninteresting. Mostly speculation about who will win, who looks interesting (which really means which tributes the Capitol finds the most attractive— _disgusting_ ), and reruns of the reaping. They also show past games and previous Victors, some of which are interviewed.

_“Finnick, who is your favorite to win?_ ”

Finnick Odair, a bronze Adonis, and darling of the Capitol. Youngest victor in history. Won the 65th games at the ripe old age of fourteen. His looks primarily helped him claim the title of victor. No other tribute has ever received a more lavish or expensive gift. A golden trident, which he used to _spear_ his opponents to death.

Finnick is from district 4 and was introduced to the country as a young fisherman, but looking at him now, Katniss can't imagine him being anything other than a Capitolite. He appears comfortable among the strange-looking crowd; like he was meant to live among riches and be bathed in attention and glory.

Finnick laughs, _“ Isn’t it obvious? It would be in poor taste to pick anyone other than my tributes.”_

Caesar laughs, showing his big artificial white teeth, _“ Of course! Of course! But if you had to pick someone else?”_

Finnick gives him a coy smile and wags his finger, not wanting to betray his tributes. Caesar laughs along. The whole thing looks friendly and innocent, except for the sharp look in Finnick’s sea green eyes. How incredibly rude to ask a visitor to pick someone other than his tributes to win. Even among his own tributes, only one can survive.

_“Oh! How about someone that you think will give your tributes a run for their money, hm? Who do you think their competition is? Come on! Pick!”_

Finnick’s coy smile drops, as he contemplates the answer, _"Well…if I had to choose, I guess it would be…"_

_“Who? Who?”_ Caesar jumps in his chair, making Finnick grin.

_“I guess I’d chose…Ryean Mellark. The blond boy from 12.”_

That gets her attention. She sets down her knife and turns her full attention to the screen.

_"Ryean Mellark? Well, that's a strange choice."_ Caesar comments. _“What made you choose him?”_

Finnick gives another coy smile, _"I'm not supposed to be sharing this, but let's just say I've heard through the grapevine that Rye is a little bit too cheeky for his own good if you catch my drift."_

Cheeky? What does that mean?

_“Oh!”_ Caesar grins in understanding, _“A man after your own heart, I presume?”_

Finnick winks, _“You know it.”_

"I don't get it," Prim says, turning around to face her with questioning eyes. "What does he mean?"

“I think he means that Rye is a flirt.” Katniss answers. That makes the most sense. Finnick is a giant flirt himself. He’s always seen in hand with a different person at every appearance he makes, laughing, dancing, hugging, kissing even. Gales said himself that Rye was a giant flirt. “That must be his strategy for winning sponsors or allies.” It’s a smart plan; it's how Finnick won his games.

“Oh,” Prim scrunches up her nose. “Is that a good plan? I mean, I can’t imagine anyone being romantically interested when they’re about to head into the Games.”

“It’s not about romance, Prim. It’s about charming the sponsors.”

Prim nods and goes back to watching the games. More victors are interviewed, but Katniss shuts them out, going back to her task.At least someone in the Capitol is rooting for Rye. Even if Finnick wasn’t sincere, his mention of the poor blond boy from an even poorer district will likely get sponsor’s interest.

“We have enough meat.” Her mother quietly states, her attention still on her herbs.

"We can never have enough meat. You could make a stew; it would last longer." Katniss fires back, careful to keep her voice low enough that Prim can't hear.

"You could try trading in town. Might want to start saving for winter. Bread would be nice also.”

Katniss frowns. She tried trading in town earlier in the week, but it seems the people of town have developed an even worse distaste for the Seam. Katniss is usually the exception as even townies are desperate for fresh meat but this week had been odd, no one wanted fresh game. Besides the Hob, she had only been able to trade in town once, at the cobbler's and that was only because Delly had answered instead of her father.

Summer is her busiest time of year. The bounty of the woods allows her more fresh game to trade with, which allows her to stockpile the supplies and resources she’ll need to get through the leaner months. With everyone suddenly turning her away, she’s not sure how they’ll survive winter.

Perhaps the townies don’t want to trade because Gale is no longer with her. It’s no secret that townspeople are more conservative than people in the seam. In the Seam, everyone pulls their own weight, you do what you must to survive, and both men and women work down in the mines.

In town, where everyone's future is secure, and no one has to worry about food, different rules apply. The girls all wear dresses and are taught to be ladylike and homemakers, while the boys get taught the valuable business skills and are not reprimanded for going to the slag heap with seam girls. It’s all very strict, and Katniss wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t take her seriously now that Gale isn’t at her side.

"We can do without bread for a while; we have plenty of food. Be grateful." Katniss hisses at her mother.

Her mother, still focused on her task, nods her head, “Stew would be nice. Bread with the stew would be nicer…some fresh herbs and vegetables, too.”

Katniss growls quietly, turning away from her mother. Without Gale, she hasn't had much time to gather while out in the woods. Hunting, setting and checking the snare lines takes up too much of her time. Still, the herbs and vegetables aren't her mother's primary concerns. They have their own small vegetable garden out back.

She understands what her mother is saying. Her mother is trying to pressure her oldest daughter to go to the bakery to trade, but Katniss can't believe they'd want to see her now. They're mourning; it would be rude to intrude on them. Not that the bakery is closed, unlike other homes or business who have their doors closed throughout the Games when their child is reaped, the bakery is the only one in District 12 that can't afford to close down. People need bread, after all.

Her family needs bread.

Katniss groans, frustrated that her mother is right. She needs to go to town. Her family can’t live off squirrel forever. Her sister is twelve and still growing like a weed. She’ll need new shoes soon and a new jacket for winter. That’s still a few months away, though. Now, her family needs bread.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

* * *

 

She had gone into town, without much success. The cobbler was the only one that traded with her, and even he didn’t look nearly as amicable as he usually does. Katniss is sure that if Delly wasn’t standing behind her father, he wouldn't have traded with her. Delly is about the friendliest girl in the District. A bit lumpy and plain-faced, but kind and able to hold a conversation with anyone, be them Town or Seam. 

As Katniss heads towards the Bakery, her resolve weakens with every step. She usually doesn't hesitate when it comes to the well-being of her family, but in this case, it's not her sibling that's in immediate danger of death, it's Peeta's. She can't in good conscience go to the bakery now, expecting everything to be the same. She doesn't deserve the treatment the other townies have been giving her lately, but if the Mellarks were to treat her just as harsh, Katniss wouldn't blame them. She shouldn't have put her nose where it didn't belong, and now both Peeta and Rye have to pay the price. 

She’s close enough to the bakery that she can hear the pigs in the back pen sequel. She spots the apple tree and quickly looks away, no need to bring up bad memories when she’s already feeling bad as it is. She makes it up the back step ready to knock when she hears a noise inside and Mrs. Mellark’s distinct yelling. It seems the decision has been made for her. It’s not a good time. Still, it seems wrong to leave without at least trying to make amends.

Food has always been the best offering in District 12, mainly because there’s never enough of it and sharing food means someone goes without. With care Katniss pulls out one of the bigger and fatter squirrels and lays it under the door, hoping it will bring them some comfort at least, that someone is thinking of them and Rye—of Peeta.

She heads back to the Seam, one last stop in mind before she heads home.

It being Sunday, Katniss had gone to the woods with the high expectation of seeing Gale there. She had even gone a little later than usual, adjusting her schedule to hopefully accommodate the over-worked miner that wanted to sleep in. Gale never showed, and Katniss spent another Sunday cursing his name.

Walking around Town had given Katniss time to cool off. Maybe Gale didn’t show because he was too tired. She had already reasoned that she was being insensitive about him going into the mines. Him not showing up to hunt may have nothing to do with her. Katniss is trying to be reasonable, understanding, but she knows Gale all too well. He is quick to anger and stubborn in letting things go, he’s a lot like her in that way.

She’s just reached the Hawthornes when the door opens, a tall figure walking out.

“Gale?”

"Katniss?" He questions, looking at her like he's been caught red-handed, which is appropriate given the fact he's holding an empty game bag in his hand. "Before you say…"

“What the hell, Gale? Again? I waited for you this morning you know. If you didn’t want to be my hunting partner you should have just said so.” Angry, Katniss storms away.

"Katniss! Wait!" Katniss walks away as fast as she can, but Gale's much longer legs catch up to her in no time. He grabs her arm, pulling her back to him. The sudden pull disorients her a bit, causing her to lose balance and bump into Gale's chest. Flustered, Katniss tries to pull away but Gale's grip is strong, keeping her close.

“Gale! Let go!” She pushes against his chest, but he remains silent and unmoving. She looks up, a scowl firmly on her face but is caught off guard by the strange, unfiltered look on his face. “Gale?”

He shakes his head, a blush spreading across his dark cheeks, "Sorry." He lets her go. "I didn't mean to pull you so hard."

Katniss steps back, rubbing her arm, putting as much distance between herself and Gale. He notices, and his face falls for a second before being replaced by his familiar scowl. "What do you want, Gale?"

“Can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“No, I mean,” Her groans in frustration, “I just want to talk to you for a second. Maybe in the woods? I promise I won't take long; I've got to check my snare line." 

“Here.” Katniss thrusts her game bag in his face, “I checked them this morning.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Isn’t that what you want, Gale? Isn’t that what partners do? Or maybe not since you seem so hell bent on going out on your own.”

“It’s not what it seems. I was planning on going out this morning, but, well…”

“Well what? You still mad at me?”

“No,” he shakes his head, frustrated, and shifts his silver gaze from her to the floor, “I overslept.”

“Oh,” And just like that her anger is gone. She should have known it had something to do with the mines.

“I know, it’s stupid. I don't ever oversleep, and it's not like I wanted to it just sort of…happened. I didn't mean to leave you out there alone this morning. I'm just…tired, really tired."

“Gale…I’m sorr—”

"Don't—I don't want to hear it. It's not like it's only me, everyone in the Seam goes through the same thing. It'll get better, once I get used to the new schedule."

Katniss nods, but she knows that isn't true. Her father worked for more than fifteen years down in the mines, and every day she saw what a horrible burden it was for him. The weight of the hours and awful conditions weighed down on his shoulder and made the wrinkles on his face deepen. Her father was the liveliest man she ever knew, and even he couldn't escape the effects of the mines. If it wasn’t the explosion that took him, it would have been something else just as terrible, black lung, crippling injury, or the kind of darkness that affects her mother now at the realization that this would be his life and nothing he did would ever change that.

“You wanted to catch up on your hunting.” She states, gesturing to the game bag in his hand. It hurts a bit that he didn’t expect her to help him out, especially when he needed it the most. Not that it would have been easy to ask for help, Gale is very proud and very Seam; conditioned to weather the worst storms without asking for help. Still, Katniss didn't make it any easier for him. She's so used to relying on herself that she forgets not everyone can do the same. 

“Yeah,” Gale nods.

"You don't have to do that, Gale. That's why I'm here. We're partners; we help each other out."

Gale looks down at her, the same unfiltered expression as before. It’s so unnerving; Katniss can’t help but blush. She wonders what he's thinking about that's making him look so…pensive. She wants to ask but knows better than to push. He needs time to collect his thoughts and even longer to form them into words she can understand. So she waits.

“It didn’t feel like we’re partners, last time we met like this. Why should I accept this when you didn’t do the same for me?” He asks, holding up the game bag filled with meat.

Katniss tugs on her braid, “Okay, fair enough. I shouldn’t have done that. The reality is neither of us can afford to go at it alone.” She hates to admit it, but this past week without him has been unsuccessful. Still, if she must survive on her own, without him, she’s sure that she’d manage.

"My thoughts exactly," Gale says, only the way he says it makes her feel like he's referring to something else, something bigger. "Ugh…none of this would have happened if it wasn't for that damn reaping." He mutters under his breath.

“What does the reaping have to—”

"Um, if you don't mind? I'm going to set the snares. Not that I don't think you didn't set them, but, no offense, you're not very good at it."

Katniss huffs, “We can’t all be as delicate fingered as you, Gale. Mind if I come along? I could use the time to gather.” Might as well fulfill one of her mother’s requests, now that she failed at getting bread.

Gale nods his head, and the two set off for the woods.

The quiet between the two is expected, but not the tension. Everything unspoken between the two hunting partners has made the air thick and uncomfortable. The irony is not lost on Katniss; the nature of their partnership makes verbal communication unnecessary but perhaps if the two were more used to talking then this tension would not exist. Still, Katniss is not one to talk things out, it's taxing, and she's terrible at it anyway. If she spoke now, she'd just make things worse.

Katniss sets out on her own to gather while Gale sets the snares. They stay within earshot of each other, not veering too far in case someone finds themselves in need of help or cornered by an animal. Some time passes, and she's so focused on her task she doesn't hear Gale come up behind her. 

“Not much luck this week, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

Gale holds up the game bag. Katniss frowns, “That’s a good haul.”

"Too good. Doesn't look like you traded any unless you're holding back on me." He means supplies, coins, the typical fare they trade their game for; only there is none because Gale is right, it has not been a good week.

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” She says the words, but as she’s come to learn this week, she’s not really sure she believes them. She loathes to think it, but perhaps there isn't much trust between the two. Not that she thinks she'd deny Gale his fair share, but maybe Gale doesn't trust her to do that.

She remembers how it was, those first few weeks after they met. Katniss was the better shot, but Gale was older and had more experience in the woods. Their partnership was logical for their survival, but that didn't mean they were happy about it. Gale was annoyed with her, seeing her more as a liability than an asset, and Katniss feared Gale would take more for himself. He was much larger than her and had more mouths to feed; she feared he would leave her with very little for herself and her small family of three.

“I know. So then what?”He looks at her expectantly.

“Nothing good to trade for.” She shrugs, not wanting to admit failure.

“Nothing good? Or no one willing to trade.”

"As I said, Gale, nothing good to trade. The supply trains don't run during the games, and who knows when that will end. Guess townsfolk decided to stockpile this year."

"Right. Like I believe that. This is the best time of year to eat fresh meat, and with no supply trains running, it's not like they have much choice other than us. Why don't you tell me what's really go on?"

Katniss’ frown deepens upset with his forceful request. “You wanna know? Fine! The townies aren’t trading. There. Happy?” She turns around in a huff, not wanting to see his reaction. A beat of silence passes then she feels him come up next to her.

“Not trading? Why?”

"I don't know. They keep turning me away. But if I had to guess, I'd say they don't want to trade with a girl. You know how _proper_ townies are.”

“Unlikely. Not like their dumb rules apply to you.”

“Excuse me? What’s that’s suppose to mean?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…that they don’t see you as a girl, or as a person really; all were are to them is seam trash, so it's not like they'd see you differently as to not trading with you. If they're desperate for fresh meat, then their only source is us, so they'd have to trade with you regardless." 

"You think they found a different source?" Katniss asks with a hint of worry. Being the only hunters in the district has allowed Katniss to live relatively comfortable, as comfortable as she could possibly be considering she lives in the poorest district, but still, that's not a leverage she can afford to lose, especially if there's another hunter.

“I don’t think so. If they had, the trading would have trickled down, not stopped altogether. Something is going on.”

“You know what it is? Don’t you?”

Gale groans, “You won’t like the answer. I think they’re doing it on purpose.”

Katniss scoffs, “Okay, I know you hate townies as much as they hate us, but really? No one is stubborn enough to refuse food.”

Gale gives her a pointed look, reminding her that a week ago she did exactly that. 

"I don't know. Then...maybe they're upset that one of their own got reaped. It's been years since that's happened."

"I guess. I hope it blows over. I need to start saving up come winter."

"It probably will. Once the bloodbath starts, we always lose our tributes then."

Katniss snaps her head around quick, facing Gale with a dreaded look on her face. Rye can't die. He can't. Gale seemed to have suspected her reaction as he stares at her now, an analytical look about him. The same look he has when he's tracking game or setting a snare.

“I hope so,” she mumbles, not wanting to start another fight.

Gale frowns, and she can almost feel the argument on the tip of his tongue. "We could go back into town, try to trade again." He says instead.

Katniss shakes her head, “Not much good it will do. We could try again next week. Maybe the whole thing will be forgotten then. We could trade in the afternoon if you’d like? I’ll come out here and gather everything.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be here.” He frowns.

Katniss nods, accepting his promise, although not really believing it. It seems to be a pattern with them lately. Lack of trust. The realization is disturbing to Katniss, but as she contemplates the realization during their walk back, she understands why she feels the way she does.

Gale and her, both of them, aren't just hunters, aren't just stubborn and prideful, they're survivalist. They're friends, but their families come first, they're own survival comes first. The awful truth of survivalist is that for one to survive, someone else must die. If a friend isn't an asset, isn't an ally, then they're a liability. Nothing is worse to a survivalist than a liability.

Their friendship is built on a rocky and desperate foundation. Anything could easily topple their partnership, destroy their foundation. Now that Katniss realizes this she’s isn’t surprised that there is tension and distrust between the two. If Katniss has secrets from Gale, then he must have some of his own. And really, it's like she's always said. The only person she can rely on is herself. 

* * *

 

She tries again. Katniss tries to trade in town. Her mother had seemed even more distant when she had arrived home yesterday without bread. She didn't speak at all, and the slightest touch produced strong reactions.

Prim says that with the Games their mother is under more stress than usual. The deviation from routine has only made the stress worse, causing her to relapse slightly. Katniss thought the whole thing was absurd. The only deviation from routine affected Katniss. Without Gale and without trade. That only had to do with her. At the very least Katniss was still able to keep her family fed. And the Games are distressing for everyone. The nerve of her mother to act as if she's the only one that suffers. Still, to appease Prim, who is more affected by their mother's ailment, Katniss decided to give it another try. 

She heads back into town, bypassing all stores and making her way to the Bakery. Her mother wants bread and bread she shall have.Her sure steps become meeker as she approaches the bakery. She’s about to knock on the door when the sequel of the pigs distract her. They seem more energized today, eating their slop with vigor. One rather large pig eats with so much intensity that he spills slop over the pigpen, land right on her hunting boots.

"Dammit." She groans with disgust. She wipes away her boot on the dirt, not wanting to trade with the baker in soiled shoes. A big chunk is stuck on the lace of her shoe; she goes to remove it when she realizes what it is. A slop covered, furry piece of squirrel tail. She looks over the pigpen to find various pieces of squirrel meat mixed in the slop.

She can’t believe what she sees. To refuse food is one thing, but to let it goes to waste. The audacity. She kicks at the pig pen in anger, in humiliation, and storms away. Moving forward as to seem that her original destination was not the Baker but someplace further ahead. She's about 3 feet away when she spots him.

Peeta.

Slumped under the apple tree. Black and Blue and patches of red covering his hands and neck. He doesn't even see her, with one eye swollen shut and head turned down. His chest wheezes lightly, and she just knows that he's struggling to breathe.

Peeta's mother is as prideful as she is hateful. If she beat her son for giving bread to a Seam girl, then she must have tried to kill him for getting a handout from the same Seam girl.

"Peeta!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note  
> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
> 
> And to those that don’t celebrate Christmas—HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! This is my gift to all of you. I hope you enjoyed it! I did not want to finish off the year without updating my active fics at least one last time.  
> I’m gonna start responding/ commenting on reviews because it’s the least I can do for your kind words. First, I want to thank the following for hitting that kudos/bookmark button!
> 
> Reviewer Acknowledgments
> 
> wendywobbles2016: Heres more! Sorry for the delay! I hope you liked this chapter! 
> 
> llmarmalade: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! 
> 
> bethylark: Thank you! I personally really enjoy love without reaping AUs. Sorry for the late update! Better late than never, right?
> 
> Noberts_Mom: First, I love your profile pic (Cute!). Second, Thank you! Yes, Katniss is naturally protective of Peeta, like she is of Prim. I’m glad you’re liking where this is going. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Now that we’ll be getting some more of Peeta. 
> 
> Alright guys! Until next time! Happy New Years! Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! 

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally posted this story on Fanfiction.net (Under the same pen name) back in December and I kept wanting to post it here, but just forgot? Yeah, but I just updated with chapter 3, so it seemed like the right time to post here. So yeah, the first two chapters are primarily from the books. I am aware! Haha!
> 
> Alright, I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Quick question/announcement: would you guys be interested in a reviewer acknowledgment section at the end of every chapter? I just want to better connect with you lovely people and was wondering if that's a good way to answer questions or thank you guys individually.


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